Que língua estranha …

Que língua estranha é essa que uso para me esquecer? Há dias que nem toda cafeína do mundo me basta… escrevo a quem quer que seja. Este é o ato de colocar pra fora, mas onde encontra-se o dentro? O dentro é um silêncio ruidoso, uma pré arte, um espaço repleto de pré coisas a serem nominadas. O dentro é o que eu inventei. Certas vezes escrevo para ver concretamente o que não pode ser dito. Seja o que for, isto dentro. Algo tão grande que impele as linhas e tão modesto que sucumbe à moral popular que sempre pode … Continue reading Que língua estranha …

I am going …

I am going to love you like I do not know that I am not meant for you. I will sit on rooftops with you and I will write poetry on the backs of your hands. I do not know if you will feel anything for it, but I hope you do. You will walk home that night and your hands will shake and when you stretch them out before you there will still be ink on your skin. You will think of me. You are going to call me in the morning and you will take me to the … Continue reading I am going …

What is true love?

You know someone truly loves you they want to complement your happiness, not take it from you. When they randomly go out of their way to do something nice for you, without bringing it up in arguments to rub it in your face. You’ll know they think you’re special, when they respect your body, mind and soul. When they speak highly of you when you’re not around to hear. You’ll know they value your presence when you have days when you don’t do anything exciting yet you still have an amazing time. When you’re not forced to do something you’re … Continue reading What is true love?