Tears Down

 The wind

that trees ever felt

cut the core up,

the one what feed senses,

the one what grow up from the nest

and never take mind about the ground.

Sense overdose

or sense's overdose

nevertheless,

inbounded blood are sealed.

Why?

 Why?

I walk between sighs 

while I cook, while I sleep, while I work

and everything as a deja vú,

as a reality

but why?

I can't wake up anymore

without your voice adorning my days,

an unreal voice

because you're not here.

Why?

The truth is a scar in my words

that truth is,

how Pink Floyd sings,

I Wish You Were Here

Fantasy

 My brain is a joker.

I really think that I looking for nothing

and that

makes me angry

'cause it's a big lie in my reality.

Nothing is connect to my emotions

but I believe that it's real... I feel it real.

I go away, on the streets, into the fog

and remember that I need isn't in my wishes.

Glass doesn't break with rocks only... so does our heart.

Drops on the Paper

Warm goes far away from this hands

and heart wants to feel another flame...

how? 

This place is isolated from the noises

and I only see some houses and the rain covering the landscape;

two old men talking about who knows what

and, well, my wet clothes.

This isn't the moment for that.

I must to back home,

I'll enjoy the road and I'll follow laughing of my rare ideas.

Rewrite

Deny myself for happiness,

it's hard to practice,

but sometimes

it's so painfull.

My bones carry my frustration

and wake up everyday

with the feeling of something that didn't be.

But I follow my heart yet,

that voice from my soul,

to open ways and exit from the mud.

I won't let a place to rest,

I won't have ears for the lies.

Only will be light for love...

only will be space for life.

Imagine

Sometimes I draw you in my mind

walking somewhere... smiling me.

Some nights I come back to my mind

looking for your sigh.

Now I am in debt to time.

A lot of tears disturbing sleep.

I want to breathe more,

I need clear my words,

because I need smile too.

Feeling Memories

 I hear you in songs.

I write you with my fingers on the table.

I see your smile while I walk on the streets.

Without noticing myself, I look for you in other persons

but I give up,

 I don't need this.

So

I avoid singing "Black " from "Pearl Jam" day by day

wanting to capture in me the idea of ​​forgetting you... 

this is a bad recipe.