Arte: Carlos Saramago


When days are too long
And the sun enlightens the silence kept within,
the make-up is unavoidable;
it hides the lost look and the poor smile,
trying to convince itself
that life is still there.

When the bed is too large
for loneliness to fit in,
and the color of the clouds doesn't matter anymore,
the blush on the cheeks
makes up the appearance of the face
that cannot smile anymore.

And when, finally,
the tear accepts to fall,
washing away all the artifices,
there is no hiding place
where to slither and breathe.
Suffocating, a lonely soul finally dies,
delivered from the awful pain.

Dulce Morais

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