Your Heart Is Not Poetic
Your heart is not poetic
and I really don’t like it, ‘cos it has
its own ways of hurting people.
I can not run, nor hide from it,
‘cos you’re always there, inside me
wherever I go, even in my sleep.
Your heart is not poetic
and I really don’t like it, ‘cos it recalls me
of two quills and a rose on a table, sitting…
and your laughter was filling the whole bar,
without warning I was left, by myself with
your huge bill. Thank God, I had my visa.
Your heart is not poetic
and I really don’t like it, ‘cos it reminds me
of the pains you gave me, still, I love you, brother!
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