My life is a lost house in the middle of the forest where rain brings sun and light embraces dark. Every tree is a feature of my painful heart. In my face there are birds with bright colours whose wings touch the sky of your eyes. I look up to them.
The ground I dig is full of black rings you've lost some years ago. My bare feet feel the smoothness of your skin while water runs away. Escaping from my vulnerable words, I mumble till the night comes and takes me into a waste land where you see me dying slowly.
Um Inventário Florestal em conserva
6 years ago
3 comments:
oi fofinha
desculpa la
mas que tal falares em portugues?!
se calhar era melhor ideia
beijos
Inês.......
já agora
comenta o meu novo
já que ficou aqui.
beijos
Inês.....
Olá Clara. Só para informar que o memória de elefante mudou de domínio. fica bem.
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