quinta-feira, 18 de agosto de 2011

not so shrewd moves

Chances are we will meet again some day
and as I wave, you might not turn your face
for you will not know (or will do so)
my heart still aches from the thought of you.

Chances are I will dream of you tonight
and I will cry as my eyes open
Or will I die from the exhaustion
that overcomes me every waking hour?

You may ask me why that is
and I'd have an explanation
for my not so shrewd moves
as far-fetched as it sounds
as so silly it may seems

I love you.





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