#coroados

[bulkbinbox]

[1834-1839] múmia de um chefe dos coroados - jean-bapstiste debret. eram chamados coroados diversas tribos diferentes por usarem o que se entendiam ser coroas de penas na cabeça.

[pearcaico]

Componentes da Bateria do Maracatu Nação Leão Coroado, Córrego do Cotó, Bairro da Bomba do Hemetério - Recife Em 1963.

Photo Katarina Real.

[necrofauna]

[valsadoscoroados]

[edsonhenrique32]

#Manaus #manausnadepressao #coroado

#shorts

#manausnotiktok #manausvistadecima #drone #fy #foryou #supermercado

[sarava]

O fogo alumia as brumas e tem nome de rei: Xangô.

É majestade do início ao fim.

Começa na centelha. Que queima aos poucos até se fazer fogueira. Até mesmo estourar que nem rojão.

O fogo, seja o que cozinha os alimentos, o que se acende em prece nos altares, o que incendeia materiais e paixões, é potência.

Causa luz e sombra. De todo jeito, ele desmonta.

É para Xangô que se pede justiça contra um mundo arquitetado nos privilégios cruéis e nas proteções desniveladas.

É dele que se espera o clarear dos fatos e das reflexões, a queima das palavras falsas. O braseiro para tostar as violações de direitos e desonestidades naturalizadas e fazer delas carvão.

Kaô Kabecilê

O fogo é a primeira e maior conquista humana do antigo. Assim como a noção de justiça é. É Xangô. O orixá dos nossos primórdios e que buscamos alcançá-lo.

O grande juiz. O fogo que queima o errado, todo o errado. O rei, não por coroação irresponsável. Mas por sê-lo coroado indiscutivelmente o incorruptível, o que reina pelos irreináveis.

#xangô #orixá #orixás #axé #saravá #matrizafricana #candomblé #umbanda #batuque #povodeterreiro

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Sweet Tooth

Author’s Note: Hope you’re hungry for a third helping of Somethin’ Sweet! This one’s my favorite so far, so let me know what you think. Don’t worry, the next one’s gonna bring the heat, so stay tuned. Enjoy! ❤️

Summary: Summertime in Texas isn’t for the faint of heart, but neither is Merrin. AKA: Sy needs a cold shower.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC 

Warnings: Adult language and suggestive situations. Two idiots in love.  I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

Merrin was melting. Sure, maybe some of it was more figurative than physical, but as a transplant from Coroado fighting to make it through her first Texan summer, she was almost positively dying. She learned quickly that, around here, air conditioning wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity. The humidity rivaled even the most expensive conditioner in her arsenal, so leaving her hair down was out of the question. Her thighs stuck to every pickup truck bench seat, every plastic lawn chair, and every diner booth they came into contact with. She’d gotten pretty good at the ole peel-and-shimmy to wiggle her way out again, but there’s just no graceful way to do that on date night. Underboob sweat. Ass sweat. Eyebrow sweat? She didn’t even know that was a thing, until now. At work, she hid in the walk-in freezer as often as she could, and cussed every time the front door chimed with each new patron that walked in. 

Right on cue, when those stupid little bells rang again, Merrin sighed. She imagined ripping them down from their place above the door and pitching them clear out into the middle of the street, but only for a moment. “Gotta pay the bills,” she reminded herself, and closed the heavy door behind her again. Daydreaming in the ice vault would have to wait. 

Afternoons in the bakery were always slow. Stealing a quick glance at her reflection in the glass on the front of the oven, she dusted off the front of her apron and pushed through the swinging doors to get behind the counter. “Hello! How can I– Well, shit.”  

His laugh came from somewhere deep in his gut as he leaned against the bar beside the bakecase. 

“Well hello to you too, darlin’. Expectin’ somebody else? Must’a been waitin’ on yer other boyfriend, huh.” 

Sy crossed one ankle over the other and smiled. It was rare for him to get a day off, so today was a nice change of pace. The only problem was that he just couldn’t sit still. The yard needed mowing, the old fence at the edge of the property line needed mending, and the tree that had fallen on it needed split. By lunch time, he couldn’t bear to stay away any longer. After a quick shower and a shave (just a trim. Gotta keep his woman’s seat warm, ya know), he made his way to her. That cocky son of a bitch knew exactly what power he held over her, coming in here looking like that, and he played it to his advantage every single time. Damn him.

Merrin rolled her eyes at him and laughed. Clayton’s always been nothing but trouble, yet he seemed especially mischievous this afternoon. The poor bastard never did have a very good poker face. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sy. You haven’t even been a boy in a very long time.” 

If the saying goes “not to toot his own horn,” Clayton Syverson had a train whistle. Back in the day, his reputation with the ladies preceded him. Sy was just as perplexed as he was fascinated by Merrin. He’d never met a woman quite like her. She had a good head on her shoulders, and the kindest heart he’d ever seen. Nobody was a stranger for long, at least in her eyes. So fuckin’ smart, smarter than he’d ever be, with both book smarts and common sense to boot. Effortlessly funny in a way that almost made him jealous. Soft in all the right places, both physically and emotionally. Feminine, yet not too delicate. And that body. Jesus Christ. The things he’d do to her, if ever given the chance…

But that’s the thing about Merrin. She knew it just as well as he did. From the moment they met, she’d been keeping him at arm’s length. Sure, the attraction was there, as was the chemistry. Sy’s a fuckin’ dreamboat, and she’d have to be blind not to see that. Merrin’s not afraid of much, but the uncertainty of where he’ll be in just two month’s time…She wasn’t sure if she could cope with that. So instead of opening herself up to him, instead of giving in and just enjoying what time they did have together, Merrin had decided that they could just be friends. Just friends. That was reasonable enough to ask, wasn’t it?  Men and women could be just friends, and only friends…couldn’t they? According to Sy, it seemed that just wasn’t the case. Maybe it was unfounded optimism, or just plain stupidity. Maybe it was just that he wouldn’t hear it. Either way, Sy wasn’t ready to give up on her yet. What she hadn’t anticipated, though, was just how ridiculously stubborn Sy could be. Stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, and Merrin was the one stuck shoveling shit. 

“Boyfriend? Did I say boyfriend? I’m sorry, sugar. What I meant to say was boy-friend. Ya know…a friend that’s a boy.” Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he gave her a playful wink. “A man-friend, if ya’d like.”

“You’re full of it today, aren’t ya, Big Guy?”

She saw it as clear as day, the way her words got the wheels turning behind that darkening gaze of his. No, but you could be. How dare he, the sinful fuck. The thought of being full of something made Merrin’s face burn a bright shade of embarrassed pink, and she turned quickly to distract herself by pretending to fold takeout boxes instead. “What do you want, Sy?”

“Well, see’s as yer not too busy, I was hopin’ ta steal ya away fer a bit. Got somethin’ ta show ya.” Sy looked down at his nailbeds as he spoke and picked at his cuticles. When he met her eyes again, he grinned. “That’s the thing ‘bout bein’ yer own boss, right? Get ta’ make yer own hours.” 

It was a tempting thought, closing up shop and disappearing for a little while. She hadn’t seen a customer in the last two hours, so…what’s the hurt in closing a little early? He had her wrapped around his finger, and she knew it. Defeated, she sighed and shelved the rest of the boxes. 

“Alright. Let me go close up in the back, and I’ll meet you ‘round front.” 

Sy felt victorious, as he watched her loosen the tie from around her waist and hung the apron on a hook by the door. Excited fingers drummed on the countertop in a quick victory dance. He smiled and fished the keys from the pocket of his jeans. “You got it, doll. Take yer time.” 

__

They rode together in the pickup with the windows rolled down, letting the radio compete with the roar of the wind as paved highway turned into an old gravel road. Merrin hadn’t made it out quite this far before, so she had no clue as to where he was taking her. Could’ve been to some of his old stomping grounds. Could’ve been out to the woods to hide her body, never to be found again. There was no way to tell the difference. Gravel let way for a dirt path a little further down the road, and soon enough, Sy was pulling off down a hill and into a grass lot filled with cars. He parked in an empty spot between two other trucks and turned off the ignition. Live music echoed down through the open field, as did the sounds of laughter and jovial excitement.

“I didn’t know the fair was in town!” 

Merrin felt lighter than air. She hadn’t been to a carnival since she was a kid. The smells of deep-fried-everything wafted in through her window and made her stomach growl. If there was one thing that Texas was good at, it was food. Sy cracked a smile and grabbed his wallet from the dash, stuffing it away into the back pocket of his faded Wranglers for safe keeping. 

“Tonight’s on me, babydoll. Whatever ya want, alright?” 

He hopped out of the truck and came around to the other side to help her down again. Merrin landed on her feet with a soft little grunt. She wasn’t quite built to climb in and out of that beast with grace. Dusting away a spattering of flour from her tight jeans, she almost wished she’d had the chance to go home and change. She did her best with what she had, all hulled up in the bathroom in the back of the shop, huddled over a hand mirror with a hairbrush and some mascara from the bottom of her purse. The thought made her shake her head. Jesus, Mer. It’s not a date. Right?

__

Sy led her through the maze of vehicles and off to the ticket booth.  Merrin wasn’t much for roller coasters or anything too steep, so they settled for the bumper cars and some carnival games instead. When he got tired of her kicking his ass, which was really just him letting her win, it was time to eat. Everything looked so good, and there was plenty to choose from, so they each got a little bit of it all to share. Sitting across from one another at an empty picnic table, Merrin groaned as she took a bite from a barbecued rib. When she looked up from her plate, Sy had stopped altogether. His mouth hung open just a bit and his eyes were wide. It made her giggle and blush, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she chewed. “What? Is there something on my face?” 

Sy grinned as he sat back to watch her. He felt a little silly, bein’ so jealous of a piece of meat. He’d do anything to make her eyes roll to the back of her head like that. Down, boy, he scolded himself. Don’t wanna spook her. Merrin read him like a book, shook her head and scoffed in distaste. She punctuated it with a kick to the shin from beneath the table. “Perv.”

He gasped, feigning surprise, and sat up a little straighter. The napkin that was tucked so carefully into the collar of his t-shirt fell into his lap. “What was that for?!” Sy wiped his hands down the front of his pants and sucked his teeth at her. “Ain’t no way ta’ be treatin’ the man who bought you those ribs.” 

“Is that so?” Merrin arched a perfect brow and accepted his jest as a challenge. If he wanted to be a pain in the ass about it, then so be it. Two could play at that game. She let her eyes flutter closed and let another soft little moan of pleasure escape from deep within. Licking her parted lips, Merrin groaned as she took another bite. She laid it on thick, writhing around in her seat as she polished off the rest of the meat from the bone, then licked her fingers clean, one by one. By the time she was finished putting on a show, she looked up at him again and chuckled. His face was beet red, from the tops of his ears and clear down his neck. A vein stuck out at his temple. He was fighting for his life, and she grinned as she watched him squirm. “Thank you, baby. They were great.”

Sy groaned lowly. He let out a deep breath as he decompressed, ragged and strained. If that’s how she acted over some smoked meat, he couldn’t wait to watch her unravel over some homemade brisket, some cheap wine, and a good, hard dicking. Until then, he’s a dead man walking.

“Lord have mercy.”

__

The horizon was painted in shades of pink and orange as the last few rays of light shone against the clouds. A cool breeze blew through the lowlands of the fairgrounds and sent the heat of the day dissipating along with the sun. Merrin and Sy sat on the tailgate of the tuck and watched as the fireflies dipped and danced through the treeline. Merrin let her feet swing freely from where they hung off of the end of the bed, humming softly to the band as they played. Sy was stretched out behind her, belly full and eyes getting heavy as he reclined back to rest against his elbows. Though she couldn’t see him, Merrin could feel the way his gaze lingered on her. Nice and slow, as if to memorize every curve and curl, every thread in her work shirt and every seam in her jeans. Goosebumps spread down her arms and a chill ran down her spine. Every nerve in her body was ablaze for him, until she just couldn’t take it anymore. There was no turning back now. She was too far gone.

“Damnit, Clay.”

In an instant, she was on him, grabbing a fistful of that faded Metallica shirt and tugging him into her. Sy let out a grunt of surprise, but quickly fell into line. He tasted sweet, like the banana split they’d shared just moments before, like the sticky chocolate syrup and whipped cream, but with a hint of something deeper. Something strong and addictive. Something that had her coming back for more. She wanted to savor this moment, to bottle it up, save it for a rainy day, but she just couldn’t make herself stop. She kissed him, and he kissed her, and she kissed him again until the burn for breath broke their embrace. 

Her hands trembled when she finally let him go, chest heaving and achy as she fought for each breath of fresh air. That’s when she saw it. That beautiful little speckle of brown hidden amongst the ocean of blue in his eye. Merrin couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before. Visions of little curly headed babies running around in the yard raced through her mind. They’d have her nose, her lips and sweet little smile, but it was their eyes that had her attention. They were as deep and as vast as the eastern Texas sky, each with their own constellations of honey brown mixed in. They were perfect in every way. They were his. 

Merrin cleared her throat before she spoke again. “White flag. I surrender.” She could feel the rumble of laughter in his chest beneath her, as he reached up to sweep away a loose strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. 

“Oh, darlin,” Sy smirked. “You never stood a chance.”

__

Taglist: please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@geralts-yenn @peyton-warren @kingliam2019 @uunotheangel @deandoesthingstome @drewharrisonwriter @foxyjwls007 @melissareadsstuff @totalwool @summersong69 @caramariehurst @niallhorwen @warriormirkwood @summersong69 @mairablue @omgkatinka @evansabove1981

[piristephes]

To the Gods Below/Aos Deuses Abaixo

O King of nightly domain, mighty Power over Erebos Bone-crowned, golden-clad God of all dead, Along with the Dread Queen of spring you reside. Sat in your halls of basalt with a heavy heart, The destination of shadows and souls you decide. Mighty and fair, Gods below, caretakers of our souls I bid you honour on this night most black, Dreaded powers, benevolent ones, Accept this prayer out of respect For when Hekate's time come, I shant turn my back.

português:

Ó Rei de domínio umbral, grande Poder sobre o Érebo Coroado com ossos, Deus áureo de todos os mortos, Junto à Temível Rainha da primavera tu resides. Sentado em teus salões de basalto com denso coração, O destino das sombras e almas tu decides. Poderosos e justos, Deuses abaixo, zeladores dos espíritos, Dedico-lhes honra nesta noite mais negra, Poderes temíveis, benevolentes, Aceitem esta oração respeitosa, Pois quando chega a hora de Hécate, não virarei minhas costas.

[cartasparaviolet]

Manifesto-me nas entrelinhas da narrativa da vida. Surjo como aurora no alvorecer em pleno horizonte. Recolho-me no crepúsculo entre as tonalidades alaranjadas e violetas que recordam-me de meu lar primordial. Sonho de olhos abertos ao bailar pelas expectativas mundanas sem âncoras nem remos. Apenas existo em meu próprio espaço-tempo. Carregando as fantasias no bolso, a capa da pequena donzela como proteção das feras indomáveis que crio em completa abstinência. Atormenta-me sua podridão. Sua escuridão. Minha assombração. Vago pelos hemisférios, polos e esferas na patética tentativa de encontrar a saída dessa selva. A jaula esteve aberta o tempo inteiro, enxerguei muros invisíveis bloqueando a passagem. Cedi aos instintos mais selvagens. Transito despercebida nas entrelinhas da narrativa da vida. Falada em outra língua. Expressada em sinais distintos. Intuída, desmedida. Vislumbrada por sua magnificência sem significados para a maioria. Para mim, a idolatro. Pois sei que nas entrelinhas da narrativa da vida estão escondidas as 7 chaves. O baú dos tesouros inestimáveis. Relíquias e artefatos. Tombados perante o conselho da evolução. Que dita as regras, ordens, sem distinção. Sua balança divinamente equilibrada em qualquer situação, julga seus réus em completa compaixão. Eu não creio na justiça do homem, mesmo sendo formada em Direito. Não fiz nada direito, perdi o jeito e trejeito. Um segredo, nunca tive. Esqueceram-me de ensinar como conviver em coletivo. A humanidade tem salvação, eu acredito. Desisti do insubordinado eu, a nova era já sobressai sob o breu. Um acaso lançado ao vento, guiado pelas estrelas do cruzeiro. Sonho os sonhos preteridos nas entrelinhas do destino. Jamais encontrados, silenciados pelos antepassados. A voz dos ancestrais repercute por minha estrutura de areia. Frágil e instável. Capitã em suas dunas, maleável . Abala as concepções do que seria a verdade imutável. Um desatino coroado por novos prismas. Julgo estar nas entrelinhas da vida a mensagem final. Sinto, é sobrenatural. Absorvo seu ideal. Contemplo o astral. Ainda que eu seja um mísero fractal.

@cartasparaviolet

[pearcaico]

Sr. Veludinho e Batuqueiros Tocando no terreiro de Pai Adão - Bairro de Água Fria, Recife Em 1963.

Photo Katarina Real.

[todademariablog]

Quaresma de São Miguel

de 15 de agosto até o dia 29 de Setembro (Festa de São Miguel)

No dia 20 de setembro, pode-se rezar a Novena a São Miguel,

antes ou depois da Quaresma.

Esta devoção deve-se a São Francisco de Assis, que sempre fazia orações especiais a São Miguel, quarenta dias antes da festa do Arcanjo. Foi difundida através dos seus discípulos, que o imitavam nessa devoção e recebiam graças. E, até hoje, temos esse belíssimo costume de consagrar nossas vidas a São Miguel.

O que é necessário?

Antes de tudo, termos os devidos cuidados para não cairmos em superstição.

A superstição é o desvio do sentimento religioso e das práticas que ele impõe. Então, o nosso coração deve estar reconciliado com Deus e cheio de bons propósitos, para isso faça um breve exame de consciência.

Após esta breve análise de sua vida, faça um altar com uma imagem de São Miguel (pode ser estátua ou de papel), colocando velas ou lamparinas bentas, e flores para enfeitar.

Durante a Quaresma, faça penitências, jejuns e abstinências e uma boa confissão.

Então, faça o Sinal da Cruz, e diga sua intenção particular - por si ou por alguém - e reze as orações abaixo, e no dia 29 de setembro participar da Festa de São Miguel com a Santa Missa, se possível.

Todos os dias da quaresma de São Miguel:

• Acender uma vela benta;

• Oferecer uma penitência;

• Fazer um breve exame de consciência;

• Seguir o roteiro abaixo.

INTENÇÕES: Escreva as intenções em um papel para não esquecer.

Sinal da cruz

Pelo sinal da Santa Cruz, livrai-nos Deus, Nosso Senhor, dos nossos inimigos. Em nome do Pai, e do Filho e do Espírito Santo. Amém.

Pequeno exorcismo de Leão XIII

São Miguel Arcanjo, defendei-nos no combate, sede nosso refúgio contra a maldade e as ciladas do demônio. Ordene-lhe Deus, instantemente o pedimos; e vós, príncipe da milícia celeste, pela virtude divina, precipitai no inferno a Satanás e aos outros espíritos malignos que andam pelo mundo para perder as almas. Amém.

Sacratíssimo Coração de Jesus, tende piedade de nós (repetir três vezes).

Ladainha de São Miguel Arcanjo

Senhor, tende piedade de nós.

Jesus Cristo, tende piedade de nós.

Senhor, tende piedade de nós.

Cristo, ouvi-nos.

Cristo, atendei-nos.

Pai celeste, que sois Deus, tende piedade de nós.

Filho redentor do mundo, que sois Deus, tende piedade de nós.

Espírito Santo, que sois Deus, tende piedade de nós.

Santíssima Trindade, que sois um só Deus, tende piedade de nós.

Santa Maria, Rainha dos Anjos, rogai por nós.

São Miguel, rogai por nós.

São Miguel, cheio da graça de Deus, rogai…

São Miguel, perfeito adorador do Verbo Divino,

São Miguel, coroado de honra e de glória,

São Miguel, poderosíssimo príncipe dos exércitos do Senhor,

São Miguel, porta-estandarte da Santíssima Trindade,

São Miguel, guardião do Paraíso,

São Miguel, guia e consolador do povo israelita,

São Miguel, esplendor e fortaleza da Igreja militante,

São Miguel, honra e alegria da Igreja triunfante,

São Miguel, luz dos anjos,

São Miguel, baluarte dos cristãos,

São Miguel, força daqueles que combatem pelo estandarte da cruz,

São Miguel, luz e confiança das almas no último momento da vida,

São Miguel, socorro muito certo,

São Miguel, nosso auxílio em todas as adversidades,

São Miguel, arauto da sentença eterna,

São Miguel, consolador das almas que estão no Purgatório,

São Miguel, a quem o Senhor incumbiu de receber as almas depois da morte,

São Miguel, nosso príncipe,

São Miguel, nosso advogado, rogai por nós.

Cordeiro de Deus, que tirais o pecado do mundo, perdoai-nos, Senhor.

Cordeiro de Deus, que tirais o pecado do mundo, ouvi-nos, Senhor.

Cordeiro de Deus, que tirais o pecado do mundo, tende piedade de nós.

Rogai por nós, ó glorioso São Miguel, príncipe da Igreja de Cristo,

para que sejamos dignos de suas promessas.

Oremos: Senhor Jesus, santificai-nos por uma bênção sempre nova e concedei-nos, pela intercessão de São Miguel, essa sabedoria que nos ensina a ajuntar riquezas do céu e a trocar os bens do tempo presente pelos da eternidade. Vós que viveis e reinais em todos os séculos dos séculos. Amém.

Consagração a São Miguel Arcanjo

Ó Príncipe nobilíssimo dos Anjos, valoroso guerreiro do Altíssimo, zeloso defensor da glória do Senhor, terror dos espíritos rebeldes, amor e delícia de todos os Anjos justos, meu diletíssimo Arcanjo São Miguel, desejando eu fazer parte do número dos vossos devotos e servos, a vós hoje me consagro, me dou e me ofereço e ponho-me a mim próprio, a minha família e tudo o que me pertence, debaixo da vossa poderosíssima proteção.

É pequena a oferta do meu serviço, sendo como sou um miserável pecador, mas vós engrandecereis o afeto do meu coração; recordai-vos que de hoje em diante estou debaixo do vosso sustento e deveis assistir-me em toda a minha vida e obter-me o perdão dos meus muitos e graves pecados, a graça de amar a Deus de todo coração, ao meu querido Salvador Jesus Cristo e a minha Mãe Maria Santíssima.

Obtende-me aqueles auxílios que me são necessários para obter a coroa da eterna glória. Defendei-me dos inimigos da alma, especialmente na hora da morte. Vinde, ó príncipe gloriosíssimo, assistir-me na última luta e com a vossa arma poderosa lançai para longe, precipitando nos abismos do inferno, aquele anjo quebrador de promessas e soberbo que um dia prostrastes no combate no Céu.

São Miguel Arcanjo, defendei-nos no combate para que não pereçamos no supremo juízo.

Oração final

Levanta-se Deus, pela intercessão da bem-aventurada Virgem Maria, São Miguel Arcanjo e todas as milícias celestes; sejam dispersos os seus inimigos e fujam de sua face todos os que o odeiam. Em nome do Pai, e do Filho e do Espírito Santo. Amém.

Oração “Augusta Rainha”

Augusta Rainha dos céus, soberana mestra dos Anjos, Vós que, desde o princípio, recebestes de Deus o poder e a missão de esmagar a cabeça de Satanás, nós vo-lo pedimos humildemente, enviai vossas legiões celestes para que, sob vossas ordens, e por vosso poder, elas persigam os demônios, combatendo-os por toda a parte, reprimindo-lhes a insolência, e lançando-os no abismo. Quem é como Deus? Ó Mãe de bondade e ternura, Vós sereis sempre o nosso amor e a nossa esperança. Ó Mãe divina, enviai os Santos Anjos para nos defenderem, e repeli para longe de nós o cruel inimigo. Santos Anjos e Arcanjos, defendei-nos e guardai-nos. Amém.

[valsadoscoroados]

Desaparecer em si mesmo é necessário as vezes …

[tratadista]

Oreste Pizio, Vénus e Adónis Coroados pelo Amor

[shinelinesblog]

eu quero ser a sua garota, quero ser a garota que quando você pensa ou fala seu rosto fica coroado, quero ser a garota que você fica pensando o tempo todo, quero ser a garota que você quer, a garota que você diz ter perdido a sua postura, quero ser a garota que você ama, mas me parece um sonho distante, tão distante da realidade e tão próxima do impossível, eu desejo ser a sua garota. mas, sempre existe uma que te encanta, sempre existe uma que os seus olhos capitam e nunca sou eu, nunca sou eu a garota que você deseja, provavelmente eu seja a sua "brother" ou só mais uma que você se aproximou, mas pra mim, o que você é pra mim, vai muito além de palavras ou pensamentos de definição, você se tornou algo enorme no meu peito, uma rachadura, e do fundo do meu coração, eu só queria ser a sua garota.

[amor-barato]

O vento é um cavalo Ouça como ele corre Pelo mar, pelo céu. Quer me levar: escuta como recorre ao mundo para me levar para longe.

Me esconde em teus braços por somente esta noite, enquanto a chuva rompe contra o mar e a terra sua boca inumerável.

Escuta como o vento me chama calopando para me levar para longe.

Com tua frente a minha frente, com tua boca em minha boca, atados nossos corpos ao amor que nos queima, deixa que o vento passe sem que possa me levar.

Deixa que o vento corra coroado de espuma, que me chame e me busque galopando na sombra, entretanto eu, emergido debaixo teus grandes olhos, por somente esta noite descansarei, amor meu.

Pablo Neruda – O Vento na Ilha