quinta-feira, 12 de julho de 2012

Icicle


Sometimes I hate you some much that my heart aches.

Sometimes I miss you so much that my arms break
while I hug myself in the search of you.

Sometimes I love you so much that I forget
I was yours long before you were mine.

Sometimes I wish your womb
had let me die.

Sometimes I wonder
why, mother, why?


Nicole Rodrigues

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