The Poem

These words were written a long time ago.

Was I too late? You'll never know...

The letters that came out of the pen were just a setback,

and I don't want to live in your pastime.

‘These are different times’

Or was it you who stayed too long in the past?

Forgive me if I don't give you peace in the form of gifts,

but look at how cloudy this future already is...

I saw the rain that wet the paper,

and the ink from my veins running off the brush.

These are the words that will never come back,

and they never belonged anywhere.

The only time we spoke was in my dreams,

and your glass eyes are so laughing.

Sometimes you don't even sleep at night,

How can I wish you a good night?

Don't erase what you love,

write with your suffering,

but don't set it on fire

it will feed me.

This is the poem I dedicated to you,

and I still haven't erased it.

To get your heart beating,

you need me to read it.

Copyright Credit: Miguel Silva, "O poema" from Gota d’água