terça-feira, 24 de abril de 2007

Poetry that does not rhyme: Unfinished business

We seemed to have nothing else to say.
Nothing else to believe.
Nothing else to talk.
But you broke that certain truth.
When corrupting old promises, you talked to me.
You talked to me.
In your voice.
In your forgotten voice.
Now that I see, your voice made me sick.
And hearing you, now, years after our departure.
Well, I keep thinking:
“Would life be better, if we never stooped talking?
If we had never separated from each other?
Would life been any different?
Would we two be less sad?
Would we be happier with one another?”
All this thoughts make me pathetic.
It’s obvious, you’re much happier now.
Much useful.
Much successful.
Much beautiful.
Well, I took my choice back then.
Won’t regret those choices now.
See you in another life then.

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