Protein novel

My words flow enthusiastic
Telling a topic few appreciate.
The story had little players
With specific superpowers
That secretly touch or lives
In the core moments.

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Story telling

Tell me a story
That was never written
that has a cowboy traveling alone
And a horse who missed her friends.
A story with a farm and a dog
Smelling like peach flowers
And cut grass
Is my favourite.
Tel me a story you lived
And that I will tell my children
But will never write.

Moving on

You tell me to move on
Without complaining
Not to ruin the image of your reality.
I will step out
But my opinions are sacred,
Laid in a basket inside me,
And they will be written if not told.
Reality passes quietly and silent
and I needed time to give a name
to all the happenings.
I hate labels but they give the right words
to tell the story
I do not want to forget.

Short fingers

I have only short fingers
To tell my story
And type passionately this night.
In this short distance,
All life condenses in drops of memories
And vapour of lost kisses.
Short words will be ideal
To write those heavy memories,
The persons that can only be remembered,
And the baby steps I climbed
And now behind my back.