Each man kills the thing he loves by Gavin Friday
Each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard. Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword. Some kill their love when they are young, some when they are old. Some strangle with the hands of lust, some with the hands of gold. The kindest use a knife because, the dead so soon grow cold. Some love too little, some too long, some buy and other sell. Some do the deed with so many tears, and some without a sigh. For each man kills the thing he loves, yet each man does not die.
The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde
HE did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
…
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
By myself
Tirou-me férias as palavras e devo de outros tomá-las emprestadas. Que não me faltem outros para fartar o meu rio de entendimento, enquanto de mim se distancia o tempo da inocência de crer no incrível e de esperar o impossível...
 Escrito por bailarina das letras às 13h49
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