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Kill all of me !



Someday, however, time- will end.
All of me must be kill, everything that I am or what I feel!
My dreams are no more feelings, they aren't real.
I bury all of me even I don't have the strength !
Like a purple gray flower- killed of a hand.
Reality exist only in memories and thoughts!
Because I don't have the right to feel or to dream .
Hide the dark that is inside of me !
In time all of me will be killed, without a breath.
With each passing day- something dies in me!
Even if the blood is still in me, I feel I'm not here anymore.
So, for what feealings and dreams are in me ?
The only treasure in life are our feelings...


                          
                                              - A. A. Popovici,

Comments

  1. When time ends, eternity begins, and then we will understand what were our feelings and dreams for. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes- when time ends... thank you so much!

    ReplyDelete

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- A. A. Popovici,

Green writer.

In time with my books.  In time with my thoughts. In time with my desires. In time with my sadness. In time with my writing. In time with my dreaming. In time with my plants. In time with my darkness.


In time with my lost hopes. In time with my sad piano -melody. In time with my waiting...  In time with my travel, feelings.


In time is my window door!


In time with my shadows. In time with my lover. In time with my thinking. In time with my happiness. In time with my words. In time with my loneliness.


All that I desire, All my dreams, All my hopes, Are in time for me!


I’m a green writer! In time with my own poetry! In time with my library of books.



                           - A. A. Popovici,

Morning year !

Scent of a man.
Art of a room.
It was lonely.
Happy new year is home.
Last feelings inside!
Be your own kind of fashion.
Friday cat friend.
Cappuccino outfit color.
Newspaper look.
Mood of a feeling.
Art without o feeling.
Touch of a word.
An hello of a good morning year!
Warm season is just you.
Wishing of you to be here.
Morning is a loneliness day.
Two hearts are alone.


- A. A. Popovici,