The treachery, I shall never forget,

so that my heart, from this moment on,

will be guarded, against any such exploit.


My writing, I will improve;

bit by bit, in such a manner,

that nails be bitten off

every time I’m read.


My appetite for love

I shall be more scarce with;

to spread in spontaneity

I’ll restrict it, to only those

whom truly show their face,

before the checkered board

of love its game


My heart will sing its song,

of love, solely to hearts

that really open up;

beyond facade and delicate off masks.


However, first of all,

but mentioned last

to weld into remembrance;

I shall forgive.

Yes, read me well

as I do forgive.




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