miércoles, 28 de agosto de 2013

Ours

The sky is falling down on me
I don't care
what the sphere-shaped planet means,
nor what they say.

It's just like fire
the way I feel,
when I meet your eyes,
it is my heart what you steal.

I don't want to sleep,
because I would have to dream
about this little world
where you don't know me.

I would take you in my arms
and towards a shelter we would run,
there, under the dome
before they detonate the bomb.

Please do not walk away
do not turn your back on me.
There will be a day
when the world will be only...
ours.

Poor quality, hasty written, terribly structured poem. But something, though.

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