quinta-feira, 23 de março de 2017

The fall

The beauty of decay
likely resides
in what insists to remain
against odds and tides.

What once it were
and can no longer be;
what we wish it were
and as it is, refuse to see.

Beaneath old dust
amongst memories scattered and broken
our love - should we trust
that it is trying to keep awoken?

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