I've finally found out
That most of the tears I cried
Were not mine.
They dropped from other eyes,
so clear, salty and bright
-but they were not mine.
Yet I have on my face
All the tracks
They've left behind.
Cansada De tanto ter, Tanto querer E nunca ter nada. As mãos atadas, Vida regrada Palavras prontas, Cansada, cansada, cansada... Nada me...
Marvelous poem, Ana! I loved it!
ResponderExcluirCongratulations!!!! your blog is very beautiful!!!!!!
Kisses