sexta-feira, 3 de novembro de 2017

Poema 204

I have wrote this before but maybe this time is for real 
Not that I truly believe it but I’m hopeful 
The wound you left is starting to heal
I can see other futures than waiting forever for you 

One day I may stumble upon this again 
I have the bad habit of hitting furnitures 
It will hurt the place for some days 
The truth is company wasn’t in our nature 

I suppose the love will ever exist 
It just doesn’t grow as before 
I can write endless about this 
But chasing after you no more

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