sexta-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2010

A never delivered message

"I can't express my feelings any more
Than I can raise my voice or want to lift
My hand (oh, I can lift it when I have to).
Did ever you feel so? I hope you never.
It's got so I don't even know for sure
Whether I am glad, sorry, or anything.
There's nothing but a voice-like left inside
That seems to tell me how I ought to feel,
And would feel if I wasn't all gone wrong

Robert Frost

Last time we spoke, I couldn’t say a word.
Feels like you thorn my speech apart
With your looks, when you told me that
Everything was so fucking complicated.
You remind me too much
Of all the things I cannot do
And books I’ve never read
And of all the stuff I don’t know about.
There you stood, biting the skin off your lip,
You are the image of my failure.
All right, it’s fucking complicated
Especially if you keep thinking about it.
But take away all the streetlights in the world
And you’ll see stars shining on the asphalt.
Instead, you kept on talking,
Friendship is gold, you said,
Friendship is all.
Our friendship’s like a cat playing with a ball
He flirts with the idea of grabbing it
But suddenly quits, and goes to bed overtired.
We flirted and we played
And, as far as your lips could say,
You took pleasure in it.
We both take pleasure in longing
You as a girl and me as a poet,
But I, being a poet, know
That one may only take pleasure in snow
If one does not long for the sun.
I’m sorry if I did not speak too much,
If I ran out of words to say.
Instead, I’ve put my poetry into test
To throw this images at you
And may your heart do the rest.