Blushing Free


My lively sweetheart,
sleeps among the grass, 
and brightens the atmosphere, 
with her smile.
Holding our hands, 
she rises up, 
wrap our fingers, 
trying to spread her love,
and utter the eternal words.
And I blush,
I try running away,
as she,
open her arms, 
more lively than before, 
with nothing to regret, 
not at all confusing, 
realizing that love 
is not an excuse.
She is taken and retaken
being more nimble, 
who suffered so much pain 
in her late forties 
with a soul distraught, 
her face a bit dyed, 
with the rest a little fake, 
but, often, staring 
with the eye lost 
the yellow dust 
that remains on the finger, 
it seems to the detritus 
of that butterfly 
that one day clawing 
squeezing alive.
She moves, 
shakes and ask 
Will you marry me? 
And I blush once again!


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