Last Wish
The man I was is dead, I promise,
Even I feel sorry for him;
so false, so cruel, so crazy,
so absurd in his living, so grotesque.
He passed away today, but it was for the best.
Let’s remember about him and the few true things he had;
the way he loved his work, his lack of money,
the passion he showed every time he talked about you.
He’s gone, but he parted happy.
Upon his lips he had your name, mixed with the flavor of guilt,
in his eyes, the most quiet landscape and in his mouth his last wish:
to hold you tight once more if ever coming back.
And I, the one who saw his longing for your kisses,
I must wait your return, after months of silence,
and give you the hug I owe you and left the departed behind.
I won’t cry, I’ve already cried all the tears life gave me.
I won’t hesitate, doubts will not exist if I see a small smile on your face.
I won’t keep dreaming, because my greatest dream is becoming real.
And I will come back to life, to reinvent the love I made once for you.
Yes,cause from now on, I will love you for the both of us,
And I confess that I, while he was talking about you…
I confess that I also loved you in silence!
—-
Today I’m very happy.
Well, is Valentine’s Day, so I wrote a poem about love…
Thanks everyone for all the support, all the nice comments. I found that I can write interesting lines, so I will be doing this for a while (it might be annoying, but I know you’ll understand).
Hugs and kisses for everyone!
PD: there’s two of you I’m gonna call today. 😀
While people are passing by…
While people are passing by,
Have you ever asked yourself who they are?
Why they fight, what they feel, what they do?
Are they the main characters of romantic stories,
are they slaves of a bitter routine,
are they toys of fate or God’s puppets?
While people are passing by,
and walking with them side by side, you feel -as I do-
that you’re not walking between winners and losers,
but you know you’re walking among survivors.
Among survivors of riots because of hunger,
between survivors of wars started during a chess match.
While people are passing by,
you realize you’re walking between nameless guys and girls,
human beings indifferent to you,
Lives we don’t know, and deaths we don’t care.
They’re only deaths; deaths we read about in morning papers,
cold obituaries, faceless names.
While people are passing by
Wouldn’t you like to know their stories? …I would.
I’d like to know about their dreams, learn about their reasons to live, to survive.
I’d like to tell their stories; creating some beautiful moments for them,
giving them happiness.
I think I should start with myself.
I think i should start to tell my own story.
The story of the forsaken lover.
The story of the betrayed friend.
The story of the dreamer that wakes up
in the middle of a storm of black facades.
It’ll be a story of heavens and hells,
of nights of sun and days of full-moon,
of scarred, blackened hearts
and windows that prohibit the sunlight from now on.
Is the replay of the old story,
the same, but with different actors.
The same emotions entwined
and the same collective perversions,
self destructive relationships, ruffled values,
forgotten kids and censored gods.
While people are passing by, now,
I realize I don’t want to tell any stories;
it’s everything, it’s always the same.
Neither I will tell my story.
If you want to know it… imagine it.
Stand up in a corner
and when you see me passing by with the rest of them,
Create a happy ending for me.
...::: Count Of The Moon :::... 