All or nothing

Whole

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.
But please
Want the same than me.

Lascivus

 
Não será simples, não será longo...
Vai demorar um pouco, vai levar todo o seu pensamento.
Vai levar todo o seu coração, ele irá tomar toda á sua respiração.
Ele irá ser curto, não vai ser simples...

Ele vai tocar através das suas costelas,assim levará todo o seu coração.
Não vai demorar muito, ele vai ocupar  todo o seu pensamento..
Como uma cidade é ocupada, como uma cama é ocupada.
Vai tomar todo o seu corpo,e não vai ser simples.

Você está vindo para dentro, quem pode resistir a você?
você está vindo para dentro, quem nunca quis resistir a você?
você está tomando partes de mim em lugares nunca planeados.
você vai longe com pedaços da minha vida.

Não será curto, vai levar toda á respiração
Não vai ser simples,  me tornarei a sua vontade.

 By Tatyana Delacroix

Why men like Girls?!

The truth is out there.

- The man say...

They will always smell good even if its just shampoo.
The way their heads always find the right spot on our shoulder.
How cute they look when they sleep.
The ease in which they fit into our arms.
The way they kiss you and all of a sudden everything is right in the world.
How cute they are when they eat.
The way they take hours to get dressed but in the end it makes it all worth while.
Because they are always warm even when its minus 30 out side.
The way they look good no matter what they wear.
The way they fish for compliments even though you both know that you think she's the most beautiful thing on this earth.


How cute they are when they argue.
The way her hand always finds yours.
The way they smile.
The way you feel when you see their name on the call display after you just had a big fight.
The way she says "lets not fight anymore" even though you know that an hour later....
The way they kiss when you do something nice for them.
The way they kiss you when you say "I love you".
Actually... just the way they kiss you....
The way they fall into your arms when they cry.
Then the way they apologize for crying over something that silly.
The way they hit you and expect it to hurt.
Then the way apologize when it does hurt ..(even though we don't admit it!).
The way they say "I miss you".
The way you miss them.



The way their tears make you want to change the world...
So that it doesn't hurt heranymore...
Yet regardless if you love them, hate them, wish they would die or know that
you would die without them...it matters not.
 Because once in your life,whatever they were to the world they become everything to you.
 When you look them in the eyes, traveling to the depths of their souls; 
and you say a million things without trace of a sound,you know that...
 your own life is inevitableconsumed within the rhythmic beatings of her very heart.
 We love them for a million reasons. No paper would do it justice. It is a thing not of the mind but of the heart.
 A feeling. Only felt.


Not by myself, but very interesting.

Amor que se traduz

Meu amado.
Tão efêmero quanto o dia que vem nascendo aos olhos de quem vê.
Tão intenso quanto arrepio na pele,quando á alma esquece de proteger.

Amor que não tem sentido,mas quer ser vivido sem nada a perder.
Saudade que não vai embora,só me apavora até eu te ter.
Te ter por inteiro,sem nenhum receio nem contradição.

Amor de aventura,mas que não tem dúvida da boa intenção.
Mantendo o controle,estabilidade sem nada a deixar.
Amor,que saudade,reciprocidade,é o que eu quero ter.

Amor de verdade, que não tem palavras,não sabe dizer...
Dizer o que sente então de repente  se traduz num olhar.
Num olhar sincero,que diz que te quero, te pede um beijo.
Deseja uma música,numa vitrola velha,uma dança a dois.
Dois corpos colados,que não pensam mais nada,e o amor entre os dois.
                                          

By: Tatyana Delacroix

I'm not Depressed

An old birthday balloon
(Out of breath, somewhat bated)
I hum my jingles out of tune
One-hit-wonders soon outdated
Like a song without sound
Mourning a muted meltdown
I’m at the point of no concern
For my inability to yearn
I am -
Whatever comes after
The past, the future
The cries, and the laughter
I remain –
Whatever came before
The purple rain, the midnight train
The virgin and the whore
I am a pixelated painting
Understood by few
Inexplicably containing
Little drops of you
You’re my middle C
A sepia photograph
Of my mundane eulogy
And my previous epitaph
You are my bitter half
The gall in my bladder
My nervous laugh
My endless chatter
You’re my history rewritten
My once shy, twice-bitten
My state-of-the-art
You’re the bottom of my heart
The top of my lungs
You’re my talking in tongues
The motivational quote
In my suicide note
And although I’ll never be free
From this heart on my sleeve
I’ll always wish you to be
The Adam to my Eve.

I Hate Love

Have you ever been in love? horrible, isn't it?
It  makes you so vulnerable.
it opens your chest and it opens up your heart and and it means that someone get inside you and mess up you. You build up all these defenses,you build up a whole suit of armor.

So that nothing can to hurt you, so one stupid person, no different form any other stupid person wanders into your stupid life... you give them a piece of you.
They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb someday,like kiss you or smile at you .
And so, your life is not your own anymore.

Love takes hostages.
It gets inside you, it eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness. So simple a phase like' maybe we should be just friends'  turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart, It's hurt.
No just in the imagination, no just in the mind,
It's a soul- hurt ,a real gets- inside- you and - rips- you - apart pain.
I hate love.

Realize

Dificil analizar o que de fato parece estar tão longe,tão incomun,tão lindo... que desnumbra.
Ocasiões são raras entre os desacasos,que chegam  dentre pensamentos constantes e asombrosos.
Pessoas que falam o que pensam, pessoas que não pensam, que não falam... nada.
Tudo tão commun,tão hilário,o riso,o choro... a vontade,que não passa.
Essa Ilusão quase mata o realismo  natural do rumo incerto,que muda,muda as horas,muda o dia,muda o mundo,a poesia,a razão,o motivo maior,da vivência do ser,CRESCER.