It burns.
It rips the heart out.
Leaves a void.
Saudade.
The urge to jump on a plane,
to run for miles and miles
to overcome every obstacle
just so I can get to you.
Saudade.
The wind whispers your name
while the rain marks the beat.
The pulse of my vanes
screams :
Saudade.
When do I get to see you?
When do I get to talk to you?
When do I get to kiss your lips
and hold you in my arms?
When do I get to run towards you
to see your face, to….
sigh.
When do I get to?
Saudade.
Devaneios Psicopatas 