Yesterday I saw the wrapping paper.
That blue brought to life the memory.
Cut deep again the scar.
The tissue I said I'd save for later,
like if I'd want to hurt me;
cause you're there though you're away.
I couldn't resist, I wanted to cry.
But the images told me otherwise.
I was happy, excited, my heart racing,
couldn't feel the time passing by.
My blood was in straight rise,
and I remember you singing.
That blue told me to remember
the glass and the keychain it covered.
It only costed me some dollars,
now I'm paying mortal memoirs.
"A little something, just for you" the bag said,
a something no one will ever give you
the way I gave it to you, dear.
Last night I held my outfit,
the clothes you liked that day.
Grey mixed with blues, Calvin Klein.
I swear I've never again worn it,
it's a relic, kid, it lasts for decades.
I'm telling you, these days drain.
Tonight I dreamed with you,
you were mine, like you're meant to be.
But nothing can change,
cause that's all you are.
I cannot rearrange,
and I'm afraid I still can't bare.
YOU ARE READING
Pendulum
PuisiTo me, Pendulum, my first collection of original poems, was a journey into myself. The pathway to self-discovery, emotional liberation, introspection and empowerment. Most importantly, I learned to understand better the concept of loving oneself.
