Praia

Elevo a voz, doce. Faz um tempo, não é? Sim... Muitos meses. Me pergunto mentalmente se esses meses esconderam os resquícios de nós dois. Se a poeira desse tempo acumulado grudou nos seus olhos, se eles ainda são verdes como era aquele mar. 
Verdes, límpidos e claros como o barulho dos pássaros, como a tarde quente escorrendo pelos nossos dedos entrelaçados.
Pergunto de fato. Eu quero saber... Saber se você foi tanto pra mim a ponto de ainda causar arrepios, um estremecimento involuntário, resto rebelde de sorriso.
E de repente sou tomada por uma melancolia sem fim, com gosto de sol e areia e água de coco, com gosto de tudo o que podia ter sido, e cheiro de brisa do mar. 
Sinto as gotas de água borrifadas pelas ondas, geladas na pele como dedos frios fazendo cócegas. 
E num segundo era eu, você e um sol vermelho morno se pondo na água, era mais que isso, era... Um momento. E eu tive nesse dia um feeling de que seria a tarde mais ensolorada da minha memória.


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