May 02, 2010

I used to love you, somehow
in some twisted way that made no sense for you.
Now the sun is rising outside my window
and yet no words can come out of my mouth.
I shut you off a long time ago but I find myself
like a drug addict, coming back for more.
Even my words that were once passionate and felt
now fall silent like an Autumn leaf on a dirty sidewalk
crossed by the careless and unique every single moment.

Now that my conscience barely breaths the same air as you
I find myself surprised to see a tear slowly descending
from the cold eyes of time and bruising
that does not cease but rather accepted and put aside.
I still sometimes, in the silence, wonder if you think of me
and if, when you close your eyes you can still see my Winter Scarf
of honest smile, like a child that will never grow
forever frozen in the deep waters of the Atlantic
never to be seen by any of you.
That seldom thought of sunshine that I am not to enjoy
because life, as I inadvertently created, dictates that I am no more to be me.

I’ve given up myself, my past and my memory
to be able to make do with this pseudo-future
that threatens my rationality and where I see nothing but a dead-end.

And this lack of me was my fear: not being me.
Now, standing in front of the mirror I see something standing
where once a Person lived. I sometimes have flashbacks of the past
when I’m walking down the country road.
But they’re someone else’s memories for that child is no longer living.

Because what’s left is nothing more than habits:
Of waking up, of going to the city, of saying the same things to the same people,
of saying: hey to some stranger just because, of breathing and reading.
I do not listen to music anymore, or write or draw. I do not photograph anymore.
Because I have forgotten how to. And you were my last grip
to me.

I need to feel my self again but there is no one that still
remembers me. People I once met are gone forever
and I’m no more then a stray wondering for worm shelter.

I needed all of you and you left.
Now I left too.

Maxwell Rosevelt Black
May the second, 2010
04.46 am


  1. I used to... é o principio de muita coisa... :)


  2. Ahahahahaha... A bela e o monstro... Que belas recordações... :D