#169 His Pain (A Dor Dele)

I can see his pain 

When he’s talking about love

He loved her so much

He choose her to be in his life

Till death do their part...

He made a decision that

She didn’t considered 

To look back.

Now, he has scars

Scars for life

He has doubts 

Doubts about one day

He will love again

Trust again

Doubts about if one day

Someone will truly 

Love him...

But at the same time 

I can see in his eyes 

The love is there

Is Inside of him

The love that wants to consume him

The love that he wants

To share 

To live

To feel

To give

©️Renata Clarke-Gray


 Eu posso ver a dor dele

 Quando ele fala sobre amor

 Ele a amava tanto

 Ele a escolheu para estar em sua vida

 Até que a morte os separassem.

 Ele tomou uma decisão que

 Ela não considerou

 Em olhar para trás.

 Agora ele tem cicatrizes

 Cicatrizes para a vida

 Ele tem dúvidas 

 Dúvidas se um dia

 Ele irá amar de novo

 Confiar de novo

 Dúvidas sobre se um dia

 Alguém vai verdadeiramente

 Amá-lo 

 Mas ao mesmo tempo

 Eu posso ver nos olhos dele

 O amor está lá 

 Está dentro dele

 O amor que quer consumi-lo

 O amor que ele quer

 Compartilhar

 Viver

 Sentir

 Dar

©️Renata Clarke-Gray


Comments

  1. Paul WatsonJuly 21, 2021 at 9:55 PM

    A strangely similar piece called Missed that I wrote a few years ago.

    Missed

    I sat there like all the air had been let out of me, deflated and wrinkled.
    I hated myself for caring about him. Why did I love such a person?
    How could I live with someone so devoid of compassion and romance?
    I felt a small sob deep in my chest, a quiet silent cry to the gods.
    “ I missed you, “ he said.
    My ears perked up like a cat at feeding time.
    My eyes sparkled and I could feel the blood rush into my face.
    “He missed me “, a choir of angels sang, I could feel the giddy grin instantly appear on my face, my heart rang like a church bell.
    I wanted to sing it at the top of my voice.
    “He missed me.”
    “You missed me? “ I said cautiously, trying not to let my enthusiasm betray the quietness of my voice.
    “Yes, I threw a rock at you and missed “
    I then heard him loading his gun, it was at that moment I knew all was lost.

    We have all done it, holding on to that last bit of we think is love. In the hopes that they will take us back and everything will be ok. But it's not, and still, we hang on, and it takes some massive violent event for us to release our hold on that one-way love.

    By Paul Watson

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