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Poezii Rom�nesti - Romanian Poetry

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What a day
poezie [ ]
(without a chosen way)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
de [nica ioana ]

2010-11-05  | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english]    | 



What a way to survive the era post-you. Saying good night to smiles of careless romance and bring on the red light in the evenings, to show sorrow evidence of yellow leaves coming down upon my window and sighs just rising.

What a day to give to a dam. Travel across European countries and change my loneliness and its meaning.

What a reason to stay connected. Sorry my hope was immortal and naive. Sorry my heart was floating alone on the water. Vivid in the city windmills. In the strong stream of the dike I wash my dream and clean its mind for good.

What a way to say goodbye. Through help of mystical magical internet and cordless heartless phones. say it slowly so I never reach the end of the word which means ending, final and complete.In its wisdom, in its pain, end means everything you used to love and can't find anymore. It represents everything that was once and now, it's just nothing in vain.

what a life path. clinging on for comfort food and sorrow songs that still touch where once used to be my heart valve.

what a don't-know-how-to-cling-again and let someone in. terra men seem to all have pale eyes, with honesty palling out from their iris. rags to riches, skinny to fatty I can never seem to look at one enough to remind their face features. I forgot their nose, but I can't get over your ears and your eyes, burning me like a cow stamp in the back of my damaged head. damaged goods. too damaged to be fixed

what a way to stay alive. survival camp meets cycling in the warmer regions where you can feel people being cold. rain coming down dropping on my fantasies, making them melt into the clay and dirt that I'm walking on. Built a dream, tear it down.Watch it all fall down.

along the dike. along the red liriodendron tree.my fair skin, raining beyond compare. dark eyes seeing a better future, star of the world, mother and lover, just like in films and magazines

In dizzy light I'm searching for those pale eyes with a small percent of honesty in there

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