Um sonho,
Isto é tudo anónimo, certo?,...
Nudez,
Culpa formada antes de um beijo,
Roupa rasgada,
A dor na alma,
pela saudade que corta e volta a coser a pele,....
Não quero ser reconhecido,
Há um suspiro,
Levantar e sair do quarto,
O livro apontado e rasurado,
Como recomendação a uma amizade recém adquirida,....
Não quero ser reconhecido,
A vontade,
O rádio que vai esmorecendo até ao silêncio premiado,...
E eu não serei tido nem achado,
O anonimato dança ao som do vento da madrugada
Filme: Perfeito Days (2023)
Profundo poema. te mando un beso.
ResponderEliminarUn beso tanbien
EliminarChances are you'll recognize it...no matter where you hide even if they never text back. Loved the character visual in this one.
ResponderEliminarthanks so much
EliminarYou know how to get to the soul of it. This makes me think of all the stories my grandmother would give me about dating when I was a teen. From her point of view, they were all beasts..and she'd remind me. Sometimes, they had no idea they'd ever be that way. She made every date sound like it was a Dance with the Devil.
ResponderEliminarthanks again
EliminarYes, this stays anonymous. Your words feel very personal, like you’re wrestling with the pull between being known and staying hidden. It reads like something someone would whisper more than announce.
ResponderEliminarThanks again
Eliminar