cos loves hurts
and the pain is rough
like rusty barbwire.
Often we're lost in pain
and love is a senseless empty word.
Often existence is a cruel sleep and awake
with no shape or colour
with no feelings or sounds.
Often we cry
and blessed tears
that as feathers
carry the seeds
of a new beginning.
Often...
love born after tears
is the one that makes it worth the pain.
©Graça Costa
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