Oh yes that little bee

would dive into my very sweet caipirinha
home made sugar cane liquor and all
– as much as others in little expresso cups –
with the same insistence
the exact same resilience and fate
always again 

and again
regardless of its contents

or of the failure carved in each attempt

In every single one of these
whilst I watched the coming back and forth waves
in anything slightly smelling like love
effortlessly shining like gold
even in every gray variation

which could not really be perceived

as either sea or sky

I would dive as well

I would have to however say
that at one sip
amidst changing growing tall waves
and children running

and grownups being brave and charming amidst the snow
– I mean the sand –
that I found it dead
very dead

sink
in my only sweet treat

my very own forgotten dreams

richmond

que possa ser sempre assim

que sendo eterno enquanto dure

seja doce na despedida

as sweet and sour as your absence

na dor da partida

intense as your unsuspected taste

recheado das luzes à beira do rio

in its infinite borders

its never ending sights...

The rain the land the sea

há dias em que adias tudo
days when one should only 
listen to the day itself
being that very day
this very one?

then a day would simply be
all the rains drops resting on grass and leaves 
the variety of spider's nets on trees and wees
the blooming of small pink flowers
that of tall redish ones
the rounded yellows
the surface of brown and green lawn tapestry
or even the aroma of orange trees

those days coul have been
the days Gaston loved so much
days for reading he would say
for to listen to anima
would also suspend itself
on letting all be
on letting the reading be
being only here and in all the other places which seized to be
no more. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that every single man is in pursuit of something.
As is every woman
That somehow brought them together
And she soon came to realize
she didnt know him at all
the man whose boy
she had known for years
(Might they be trying to bring togheter who they had dreamed to be and who they became)
That he wanted so much to be known
to be acknowledged for whom he was
For being honest meant keeping it real
And no surreal dreamy days
would ever be
something else than long past days
with no such honesty

It takes an honest man
To open up a woman's heart
There it was
a glimpse of blue sky
behind the shaddy grey clouds she left behind
It was all about vocabulary
A greater toolbox he would say
and she couldnt agree more

It might have been for years
the longest she had spoken in a foreign language
the deepest she had felt
no not deep but real
lovely at home

It finally became
Thank god
impossible to go back
To be at the same place he sad
not running away from something
true she knew it was
It takes two people looking towards something to be togheter he sad
she knew it to be true
It takes two
honest people
for live to be real
death bearable to be
It takes two
to love
It could be
there would not a future for those days to be
but there they were
like a graveyard
lost in the darkness of the night
burying her past.

It was the first time in her life she was truly satisfied the past would never come back
That she felt absolutely free
and rejoiced the fact
acknowledged
how deeply exciting it was
not knowing what future could be

Longing and belonging

Why is that 

the skin feels at home

lying on your smells warmth 

and why the soul 

seems to slowly recognise 

a place to be?

Why is it that your wounds inspire understanding 

and your desire 

my own realisation 

and why so much belonging 

in so much I never knew of longing 

Why is that love

all of a sudden

is not any burden 

and suddenly reality 

became greater 

than all previous idealisation?

and why oh, Why,

are there any more answers for such whys...

she soon came to realize

that each time she cried

- for a lost lover, so she thought

it had simply been her own soul

acknowledging that

she still wasn't free

for that was a lack of courage

to simply be me

for letting life be

something she somehow could forsee...

it does

does not

it doesn’t interfere

does not make any difference at all

there is nothing else

but air, thin time

dust

between you and me

everything unfold

folded like fresh linen

dark blue cotton linens under the bed

under everyday

every sunshine which touched my skin

my body lying on your bed

and you told me

oh yes you told me

– give yourself to me.

And, oh yes, so I did.

Did you see?

no, you probably didn’t.

as much as you don’t know when the trash truck comes

you did not notice at all

that point exactly where the sun falls down

there where night rises

and it might even be

that you didn't even see

no you didn’t see at all

all the love there was there

all that was given to you to me.

yes I told you as I folded your shirts

guitar magazine oriented

how so much of it all

would always surpass

whatever effort we had made

because the beauty lied within

besides being unpredictable

being given

not taken, nor granted

like all love should live. 

And if sometimes before all I wished for was to keep

to hold and never forget

slowly

as the days passed by,

all I wished for

as much as this feeling was soaked into sad tears which never left my eyes

was to forget

to let everything go away

to let it all follow whatever star’s light into oblivion

to let every memory, every word, every kiss

disappear into dust

there was no difference at all

if in the dust of my own going away steps

the dust your bike leaves behind itself on the road

nor the dust from any other galaxy far away

dust from body, movement or gear

dust as gold

diminishing it all

into billions of tiny subatomic pieces

My heart was still in one

but everything else felt apart

and nothing from it all wished I to retain

nor even words

though I needed them

I need these

no, not to keep

but rather to enable my thoughts to return to dust and forgivenes

forgetfulness…

There is a line in your heart

a drawing upon your skin

comings and goings

longing and leaving

in your dreams.

There are mistakes in desire

and learning in regrets

amongst all

there is understanding in love

for loving you is knowing where you are

and loving you is letting you be you

and me be me

for meeting depth in your eyes

breathing love in your arms

showed me who I truly am

and how much of that unfolds in the infinity of the world.

a porta

Aquela porta abriu um mundo

porta que era muito mais do que uma porta

muito além de bege, laminada tábua de madeira...

A porta
não separava minha privacidade da tua

ela nos privava do mundo,

da cidade

da verdade.

A porta ali estava

inerte

calada

dividindo em dois
o silêncio estrondoso que vinha do outro lado

separando tuas mágoas mais profundas

de teu sofrimento incansavelmente negado.

Atrás da porta

uma estrela morreu

e a porta me deixou sem endereço

mas me ensinou:

moro no coração do mundo.

Atrás da porta dançavam

um segundo e um século inteiros

adentrando feito vento

teu triste perdido olhar

tua incredulidade

(medo de ser amado?)

A porta nos escancarou todos os nossos medos

nossos segredos mais mesquinhos

e todo desamor que persiste na dor que resiste.

A porta desde sempre soubera

quem éramos

quem seríamos

e me abriu por inteira

quando a abri.

A porta me virou pelo avesso

no avesso do avesso de minha pele

carne exposta

resposta para perguntas que nunca fizera.

E a força

- força que não é necessária para uma porta abrir,

minha não era.

A porta simplesmente abriu-se

tal flor que desabrocha derramando seu perfume sem pedir licença

inundando com seu aroma a tarde inteira

a vida inteira contida naquele abraço

(sim, o brilho do sol inundando teu quarto confundia-se com o perfume e o toque em meus cabelos, e aninhar-me fez-te sentir em casa e completamente grato).

A porta

simplesmente confirmou

que nenhum benefício se encontra em fugir da vida

que nenhuma garantia existe

onde feridas não sangram

e cama nenhuma

por mais cara, macia ou merecida

conforta a alma.

A porta

era o fiel do mundo.

Love story

He was my first Kiss, completely took my breathe away, I might have hurt him. He invited me for a sleep over. He showed me there was power in being a woman, but I completely forgot about it. 
He showed me I could be jealous. He thought we were going to marry the minute we first kiss. We made a trip to the sea. 
He was my boyfriend, so I thought, but not he. We split, he hated me. He looked for me 20 years later.

And he.

The only thing of notice is that he reminds me I once had sex in a car for the first time. We have never really been together, but many people thought we were lovers. He was in my life for too long. I must have been sick. Oh God, the day after his back looked as if he had been run over by a bulldozer.

And he?

We had absolutely nothing in common. I must have been desperately needy. I thought he was handsome, he looked like a prince. He was a complete jerk. I met him at a party. He had an old man’s car. I felt immediately driven by him. I run into his arms the minute I saw him in the street. He was so, so handsome. But he didn’t like watches and I didn’t like shoes.

He?

He is a true friend. Talk about friendship and sex between a man and a woman. He drives me crazy in many ways but sometimes I think he is the only one who truly respects me. We have known each other for so, so long. 
He was my boyfriend. I didn’t really like him. He was the other guy’s guy, but we fucked.

And he.

He introduced me to his father. His father loved my eyes. He made me fall in love all over again. He simply left me. And I forgot everything about it.

He was a musician and had truly black eyes. He had red hair. Doucement, I told him! He was so found of himself. He never really respected me.

He taught me I deserved to be respected. Those wore the most unbelievable 18 hours of my life.

And I run away from him.

He was the great passion in my life. He called me “little beautiful girl” and I wished I had known how to love.

He was the first man to ever make me wish I'd be sleeping as someone made love to me. He was a terrible person… where was I? He didn’t understand any real subject I would talk about. He made me feel completely free, a true amazon, but I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.

He was just a really old guy. He was going to marry somebody else. He made me think that love could be a tree. I thought he was the one I dreamed about when I was a teenager. He was not.

And he looked for me after so many years. He sad my skin was just the same as twenty years before. He felt lonely, he felt abandoned, I felt overwhelmed. We split.

He thought me about the ways men try to have control over a woman.

He was my first man, my true love, he told me we were going to marry, have a house and children may be. No one has ever made me change dreams for reality like him, but he truly broke my heart; he left without looking into my eyes.