<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006</id><updated>2012-02-04T03:43:15.537Z</updated><title type='text'>... Metades de mim ...</title><subtitle type='html'>Metades de mim e de ti se quizeres, metades de nós que vivemos num mundo cheio de metades nunca completas. Movidos como fantoches por alguma coisa ou alguém que nos faz metades de mim, de ti, de nós...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>112</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6623741046925128669</id><published>2012-02-04T03:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-04T03:43:15.546Z</updated><title type='text'>Pra sempre</title><content type='html'>invade-me uma insônia terrível só consigo pensar em ti. Lembro relembrou momentos só nossos, frases e promessas. Sinto-me uma adolescente apaixonada não correspondida. Não consigo pensar em mais nada a não ser em ti, invade-me uma saudade imensa de nos e as lagrimas teimam em cair num misto de revolta e dor porque não se pode rescrever a história. Tanto ficou por dizer que hoje nem as palavras saem, tanto ficou por viver que parece que só uma vida não chegaria. Es tanto em mim que nem me encontro, dono do  meu ser e da minha vontade. Perco-me em perguntas sem resposta, desejos e magoas de quem tudo teve e tudo perdeu. Eu era tão feliz que nem sabia! Fazes-me falta meu amor, no dia e na noite, nos bons e maus momentos, porque sem ti não sou feliz, sobrevivo contando as horas até te encontrar de novo. Fecho os olhos e a tua imagem aparece, faz-me falta o que me fazes sentir, a pessoa que sou quando estou contigo. Tanto fica por dizer e parece que ja disse tanto. Contigo as palavras não se gastam e são sempre poucas porque o que se sente nem sempre se consegue escrever. Pra sempre meu amor, pra sempre vou gostar de ti.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6623741046925128669?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6623741046925128669/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6623741046925128669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6623741046925128669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6623741046925128669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2012/02/pra-sempre.html' title='Pra sempre'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2820942300666883573</id><published>2012-01-03T20:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-01-03T20:43:00.922Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mais um ano que passou, ficam para trás lembranças de dias de sol e conversas de esplanada, banhos de mar, sonhos por realizar, planos e projetos adiados, concretizados, falhados, alterados. Ficam para trás os beijos longos, as noites de copo na mão, a música, as luzes de cada cidade por onde andei, o cheiro do mar, do verão. Passaram os dias, os meses, as pessoas, a vida. fizeram-se escolhas, receberam-se dadivas, colheram-se frutos, esqueceram-se pessoas, dias. Criaram-se laços, retomaram-se amizades, perdemo-nos, crescemos. choraram-se lágrimas, distribuíram-se sorrisos, partilharam-se conquistas. Passou-se mais um ano, vive-se outra vez.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2820942300666883573?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2820942300666883573/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2820942300666883573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2820942300666883573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2820942300666883573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2012/01/mais-um-ano-que-passou-ficam-para-tras.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1237931543002617901</id><published>2011-07-01T16:36:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T16:55:24.625+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Lie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;Yesterday, today, tomorrow&lt;br /&gt; Fade away like frozen photographs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Remember, forget&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt; The stakes, the ways you take,&lt;br /&gt; The ways you make the moments pass.&lt;br /&gt; For every regret,&lt;br /&gt; I tell a beautiful lie.&lt;br /&gt; And I would die if you find out.&lt;br /&gt; I tell a beautiful lie every time that I&lt;br /&gt; Did not open up my mouth.&lt;br /&gt; All the same, it’s a game,&lt;br /&gt; It’s a play, it’s a war,&lt;br /&gt; It’s a shame that we’re always fighting for.&lt;br /&gt; I don’t mean to cast no blame,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;font size="4"&gt;I don’t intend to pretend that&lt;br /&gt;I could never loved you more.&lt;br /&gt; But in the blink of an eye,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;Everything you ever knew can change&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/font&gt;And it’s a beautiful lie if you think&lt;br /&gt;Everything will always stay the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babe. My babe.&lt;br /&gt; You got a secret – it’s starting to show.&lt;br /&gt; My babe. Sweet babe.&lt;br /&gt; How long can you keep it?&lt;br /&gt; How far would you go?&lt;br /&gt; You tell a beautiful lie.&lt;br /&gt; You tell a beautiful lie.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;font size="4"&gt;And it’s going to, it’s going to drive you &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;crazy.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babe. My babe.&lt;br /&gt; How far would you go, go, go to tell a beautiful...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;font size="5"&gt;Yesterday, today, tomorrow&lt;br /&gt; Fade away like frozen photographs&lt;br /&gt; Remember, forget&lt;br /&gt; Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="5"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Keemo feat. Tim Royko, Cosmo Klein - "Beautiful Lie"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;´As pessoas que já amei são pessoas que estarão sempre comigo.´ MRP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1237931543002617901?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1237931543002617901/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1237931543002617901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1237931543002617901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1237931543002617901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2011/07/beautiful-lie.html' title='Beautiful Lie'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-7338216718138631834</id><published>2011-03-01T16:59:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-03-01T17:03:10.131Z</updated><title type='text'>Se eu pudesse...</title><content type='html'>"E deixava a vida fluir, esquecia-me dos teus defeitos e tu dos meus e com o tempo aprenderíamos a viver um com o outro sem nos cansarmos, sem nos magoarmos, sem sombras nem equívocos."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se eu pudesse, levava-te agora para casa, sentavámo-nos a lareira a conversar explicava-te porque é que um dia reparei que existias e sem querer me esqueci do meu coração entre os teus dedos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se eu pudesse...mas não posso, porque ninguém caminha sozinho, uma ponte só se constrói se as duas margens deixarem e o rio só corre se a corrente o empurrar. E eu não sou mais que uma gota de água nesse rio parado, uma peça perdida de uma ponte desmantelada, um mapa riscado que se esqueceu de todos os caminhos, uma folha em branco que perdeu a caneta, um estandarte sem bandeira, uma voz sem som, uma mão sem a outra. Falta-me a tua voz, o teu desejo, o teu querer, o teu poder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falta-me uma parte de mim que te dei e que agora já não podes devolver.&lt;br /&gt;Um dia havemos de nos entender."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Daqui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://pensando-e-falando.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;http://pensando-e-falando.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-7338216718138631834?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/7338216718138631834/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=7338216718138631834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7338216718138631834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7338216718138631834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2011/03/se-eu-pudesse.html' title='Se eu pudesse...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5615459860409831620</id><published>2011-02-23T01:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-02-23T01:40:06.764Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Não consigo olhar para dentro do meu coração sem te ver lá, mesmo que tenhas escolhido outro caminho."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5615459860409831620?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5615459860409831620/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5615459860409831620&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5615459860409831620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5615459860409831620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2011/02/nao-consigo-olhar-para-dentro-do-meu.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8099762398451146778</id><published>2010-11-23T21:56:00.004Z</published><updated>2010-11-23T22:05:20.884Z</updated><title type='text'>Um dia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;confesso-te que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;me apaixonei&lt;/span&gt; pelo teu &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sorriso...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/TOw6BX_2vrI/AAAAAAAAAGg/pxMPt1Q1uy8/s1600/sorriso%2Bby%2Bberkoztuk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 223px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542869036682362546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/TOw6BX_2vrI/AAAAAAAAAGg/pxMPt1Q1uy8/s320/sorriso%2Bby%2Bberkoztuk.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~Sorriso by berkozturk&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8099762398451146778?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8099762398451146778/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8099762398451146778&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8099762398451146778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8099762398451146778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/11/um-dia.html' title='Um dia'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/TOw6BX_2vrI/AAAAAAAAAGg/pxMPt1Q1uy8/s72-c/sorriso%2Bby%2Bberkoztuk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5274034375043439179</id><published>2010-11-19T22:32:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-11-19T22:34:40.304Z</updated><title type='text'>Rompendo a saudade...</title><content type='html'>É inevitavél pensar em ti, sonhar contigo, imaginar-te o cheiro. É inevitavél imaginar-te aqui, olhar para ti, ouvir-te a voz, querer saber de ti. Estas entranhado em mim por muito que lute contra tudo o que me fizes-te e fazes sentir. É verdade que já não perco tempo a faze-lo como antes, povoas agora mais que nunca os meus sonhos pois a realidade é bem diferente, e nada é para sempre, cada um seguiu os seu caminho embora estejamos para sempre ligados por um fios invisivel que nos faz nunca esquecer o que fomos, do quanto nos amamos e do tanto que demos um ao outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apetecia-me pedir-te para nunca mais partires, mas nunca partirás pois farás para sempre parte do meu ser e da mulher que sou. Uma vida tem muitas vidas e guardo-te para sempre, numa caixinha cheia de pó fechada a sete chaves para que ninguem te toque a nao ser eu, onde és imortal e intocavél.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Confeço que ainda procuro a noite um sinal de ti, quem sabe um dia... eu peço a noite um sinal de ti, por quem eu nao esqueci, por quem eu perdi!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5274034375043439179?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5274034375043439179/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5274034375043439179&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5274034375043439179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5274034375043439179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/11/rompendo-saudade.html' title='Rompendo a saudade...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2305121782690927668</id><published>2010-08-16T12:10:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T12:25:56.724+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Inevitabilidade</title><content type='html'>Como queria sentar-me no teu colo, como tamtas vezes fiz no passado, e contar-te tudo o que está a contecer, como a vida é inevitavel e me fazia tanta falta agora um abraço teu. Queria olhar-te nos olhos e pedir-te desculpa, pedir-te desculpa porque também eu estou a viver os meus sonhos com outra pessoa.&lt;br /&gt;A vida e o amor são inevitaveis, são forças maiores, sempre te disse isso, sempre te disse que a vida tinha sido maior que nós, por muito que custe admitir foi assim que nos perdemos, eu de ti e tu de mim. &lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe um dia esta inevitabilidade acabe e num momento qualquer eu te encontre ou tu me encontres ao virar da esquina e finalmente eu te possa olhar nos olhos e tu percebas que nunca sais-te de dentro de mim e possamos sorrir e eu possa matar as saudes do teu pequeno grande abraço, porque me faz tanta falta o teu olhar de quem me conheçe com defeitos e virtudes, com o esse olhar que me consegue ler a alma, porque és tu o único que me consegue fazer sorrir com os olhos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2305121782690927668?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2305121782690927668/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2305121782690927668&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2305121782690927668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2305121782690927668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/08/inevitabilidade.html' title='Inevitabilidade'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1550533117644419573</id><published>2010-07-15T18:22:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T18:23:09.784+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Anjos e Sérgio Moah - Virar a página</title><content type='html'>&lt;object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/majfyqKe0Sc/hqdefault.jpg)"  width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/majfyqKe0Sc&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/majfyqKe0Sc&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lembro-me da chuva em agosto&lt;br /&gt;E sinto que nada é permanente&lt;br /&gt;Sei que tudo muda e que tudo passa&lt;br /&gt;Nunca nada é para sempre..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1550533117644419573?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1550533117644419573/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1550533117644419573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1550533117644419573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1550533117644419573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/07/anjos-virar-pagina-official-video-clip.html' title='Anjos e Sérgio Moah - Virar a página'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5513792453132584343</id><published>2010-05-26T00:38:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T00:43:35.758+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Á gente que fica na história... da história da gente...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OzrUs08-SWs&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OzrUs08-SWs&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5513792453132584343?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5513792453132584343/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5513792453132584343&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5513792453132584343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5513792453132584343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/05/gente-que-fica-na-historia-da-historia.html' title='Á gente que fica na história... da história da gente...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3990176158612784848</id><published>2010-04-18T01:23:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T01:24:09.993+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Não sei onde está o teu coração agora, se ainda vivo lá dentro ou se outra mulher ocupou todo o espaço em que já fui feliz."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;MRP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3990176158612784848?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3990176158612784848/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3990176158612784848&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3990176158612784848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3990176158612784848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/04/nao-sei-onde-esta-o-teu-coracao-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-635195580078314845</id><published>2010-01-27T13:27:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-01-27T13:31:14.013Z</updated><title type='text'>Sou</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/S2A_vbWdOHI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DE0gvGyX_WY/s1600-h/TristeZa_by_Nlr4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 336px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431411234637166706" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/S2A_vbWdOHI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DE0gvGyX_WY/s400/TristeZa_by_Nlr4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;bomba relógio prestes a explodir...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Imagem de Nlr4&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-635195580078314845?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/635195580078314845/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=635195580078314845&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/635195580078314845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/635195580078314845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2010/01/sou.html' title='Sou'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/S2A_vbWdOHI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DE0gvGyX_WY/s72-c/TristeZa_by_Nlr4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2468013159635149702</id><published>2009-11-26T03:11:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-26T03:15:55.421Z</updated><title type='text'>Sinopse</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Perdi-me dentro de mim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Porque eu era labirinto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E hoje quando me sinto,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;É com saudades de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Mário de Sá Carneiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2468013159635149702?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2468013159635149702/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2468013159635149702&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2468013159635149702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2468013159635149702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/11/sinopse.html' title='Sinopse'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8180908965216535231</id><published>2009-10-15T13:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T13:23:05.086+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A carta que eu nunca te escrevi</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;"Será que é medo? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que para ti não passo que mais um brinquedo?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que exagero?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Será que não passa de imaginação?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Será que é o meu nome que tens gravado no teu coração, ou não?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eu sou a merda que vês, ao menos sabes quem sou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E sabes que tudo que tenho é tudo aquilo que eu te dou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nunca te prometi mais do que podia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Prefiro encarar a realidade a viver na fantasia"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Boss AC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8180908965216535231?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8180908965216535231/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8180908965216535231&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8180908965216535231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8180908965216535231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/10/carta-que-eu-nunca-te-escrevi.html' title='A carta que eu nunca te escrevi'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6320131001487468650</id><published>2009-09-05T15:21:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:22:47.922+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Até eu ás vezes me sinto pequena em mim...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SqJ0LQbJAjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZNSzsNzE0zE/s1600-h/pequeno.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377988641769980466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SqJ0LQbJAjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZNSzsNzE0zE/s400/pequeno.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6320131001487468650?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6320131001487468650/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6320131001487468650&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6320131001487468650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6320131001487468650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/09/ate-eu-as-vezes-me-sinto-pequena-em-mim.html' title='Até eu ás vezes me sinto pequena em mim...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SqJ0LQbJAjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZNSzsNzE0zE/s72-c/pequeno.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-7875874039667609391</id><published>2009-08-28T06:45:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T06:51:59.375+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Pequenas coisas</title><content type='html'>Existem coisas que por mais que tentes nunca irão mudar. Não és dona do mundo nem do tempo, muito tão pouco dos gestos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banalizaram-se todas as cores, o céu já não têm tantas estrelas como ontem e a chuva já não sabes ao mesmo. São aquelas pequenas coisas. Aquelas que se banalizaram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com o passar do tempo aprendes que o silêncio não é assim tão mau quando já esgotaste as palavras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero ser diferente! Quero inventar novas palavras, quero descobrir todos os dias uma estrela nova e recordar todos os dias o sabor da chuva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque são aquelas pequenas coisas, aquelas que se banalizaram que me ensinaram tudo o que sei, que me fizeram apaixonar por tudo o que tenho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque sou eternamente responsavél por aquilo que cativei e será sempe o amor que depositei nessas pequenas coisas que as fizeram tão únicas, tão minhas, tão nossas....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-7875874039667609391?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/7875874039667609391/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=7875874039667609391&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7875874039667609391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7875874039667609391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/08/pequenas-coisas.html' title='Pequenas coisas'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1086412904150662110</id><published>2009-08-14T12:05:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T12:29:43.354+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cresci</title><content type='html'>Tento enterrar o medo, num novo mundo que sigo passo a passo, pé ante pé.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guardo o passado com um sorriso, porque aconteceu e nem tudo foi mau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Houve quem me ensina-se a agarrar a lua com as duas mãos, quem me ensina-se a esperar, quem me ensina-se a amar, que me ensina-se a viver apenas o presente. Houve quem me magoa-se para que eu me torna-se forte e quem me fizesse ver quem nem tudo é como se sonha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Persigo o sonho de sempre, com a vontade de sempre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relembro-me por vezes com saudade, daquilo que fui e o tanto que já quis ser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faço escolhas e sigo caminhos, ando de frente e para a frente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cresci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 186px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369779739355441378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SoVKOP5e6OI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-MO62NPG7L8/s320/caminhar.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1086412904150662110?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1086412904150662110/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1086412904150662110&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1086412904150662110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1086412904150662110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/08/cresci.html' title='Cresci'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SoVKOP5e6OI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-MO62NPG7L8/s72-c/caminhar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8080235606870291391</id><published>2009-05-16T18:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T19:01:27.082+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tudo VCS Nada</title><content type='html'>Sinto-me a querer explodir e não posso. Apetecia-me gritar bem alto que tudo isto não passa de nada e que de nada ninguem vive, mas isso não passa de um ilusão o nada muitas vezes significa tudo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apetecia-me perder a desconfiança pelo caminho, as incertezas deita-las ao chão e os medos.. quem me dera que eles simplesmente desaparecesem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doí-me o coração de tanto querer acreditar, a alma e o corpo todo.&lt;br /&gt;Podes pelo menos hoje acreditar tu por mim que tudo isto terá um final feliz?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me tão cansada de mim mesma aqui dentro, daquela que não se mostra, só se sente, que é a tua consciencia e o teu coração, a mistrura da tua alma com a tua carne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queriam tantos ter o que eu já tive, queriam muitos ter o que eu tenho agora...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8080235606870291391?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8080235606870291391/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8080235606870291391&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8080235606870291391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8080235606870291391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/05/tudo-vcs-nada.html' title='Tudo VCS Nada'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8703035222136597937</id><published>2009-04-10T13:58:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T14:02:03.944+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Medos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Não me dêem fórmulas certas, porque eu não espero acertar sempre.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não me mostre o que esperam de mim, porque vou seguir meu coração!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não me façam ser o que não sou, não me convidem a ser igual, porque sinceramente sou diferente!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não sei amar pela metade, não sei viver de mentiras, não sei voar com os pés no chão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sou sempre eu mesma, mas com certeza não serei a mesma pra SEMPRE!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a class="autor" href="http://www.pensador.info/autor/Clarice_Lispector/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Clarice Lispector&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8703035222136597937?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8703035222136597937/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8703035222136597937&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8703035222136597937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8703035222136597937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/04/medos.html' title='Medos...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4748318962710028462</id><published>2009-02-06T00:06:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-02-06T00:12:28.869Z</updated><title type='text'>a ti...</title><content type='html'>Nao são os Km que separam nem são as palavras, nem a falta delas... O que afasta as pessoas são os gestos ou a falta deles, contudo nada disso te consegue tirar de mim. Cada momento estas em mim, em cada milimetro do meu ser, em cada centimetro do meu corpo, 25h na minha mente, gravado na minha alma. Esta casa tem os nosso momentos, fecho os olhos e revejo-os todos.. Eram outros tempos, outras vontades, outros sonhos. Mas foram perfeitos, foram nossos, seram sempre e para sempre nossos. Fecho os olhos e vejo-te, nunca te deixei de ver, apenas fuji julgando ser possivel arrancar-te de mim. Maneira infantil de tentar deixar de te amar.. A minha metade esta ai contigo e sem ela sinto-me só, confusa, fragil, triste.. A tua voz, o teu corpo, o teu sorriso, o teu toque, o teu cheiro, o teu abraço nao me saem da cabeça. Revejo tudo e parece um filme. Sinto que coleccionei historias de amor contigo que nunca aconteceram porque nao me imagino a nao ser a teu lado.. Chorei quando aqui cheguei, quando olhei para o 'nosso quarto' e tu nao estavas, chorei ao tomar banho, chorei quando vi o mar, chorei de tanta saudade que me causas... Chorei porque te tive, porque te tenho sem te ter, porque te quero como nunca a ninguem quis, chorei porque és o homem da minha vida e eu tenho de abdicar de ti... Chorei porque sem ti aqui, nada é igual. Eu sei, eu disse que tudo continuava na mesma menos nos, menti! Tudo mudou desde que tudo nos fez mudar.. Saudades, imensas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4748318962710028462?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4748318962710028462/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4748318962710028462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4748318962710028462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4748318962710028462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/02/ti.html' title='a ti...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4479678062804784706</id><published>2009-01-30T01:08:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-01-30T01:20:01.607Z</updated><title type='text'>Respiro fundo mas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SYJVdyZcRpI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rsBqHF1HBQo/s1600-h/Horror_by_LadyDe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296890081974175378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SYJVdyZcRpI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rsBqHF1HBQo/s320/Horror_by_LadyDe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Apetece-me gritar até rebentar as artérias...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Tudo isto é demais para mim...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Horror_by_LadyDe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4479678062804784706?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4479678062804784706/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4479678062804784706&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4479678062804784706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4479678062804784706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/01/respiro-fundo-mas.html' title='Respiro fundo mas...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SYJVdyZcRpI/AAAAAAAAAFw/rsBqHF1HBQo/s72-c/Horror_by_LadyDe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2858141711632692138</id><published>2009-01-26T15:52:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-01-26T15:57:12.809Z</updated><title type='text'>(...)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SX3dRgNMnQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qZQrkj6Akng/s1600-h/To_the_End_by_artyarta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295632029630373122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SX3dRgNMnQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qZQrkj6Akng/s320/To_the_End_by_artyarta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;" (...) quando olho para ti, é a certeza de que tudo poderia ter sido diferente mas não foi.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto: To_the_End_by_artyarta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2858141711632692138?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2858141711632692138/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2858141711632692138&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2858141711632692138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2858141711632692138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/01/blog-post.html' title='(...)'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SX3dRgNMnQI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qZQrkj6Akng/s72-c/To_the_End_by_artyarta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4314373205393786534</id><published>2009-01-21T03:24:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-01-21T04:49:34.410Z</updated><title type='text'>Quando a realidade nos cai em cima.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Há dias como hoje em que a realidade nos cai literalmente em cima. Acredito que seja muito mais facil para qualquer pessoa acreditar que tudo passa, que tudo sempre passará, que o que acontece aconteceu porque sim, porque tinha de acontecer. Porque é mais facil aceitar do que lutar contra algo que nao se quer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hoje em dia já ninguem luta, todos se contentam com migalhas do que se pode ter, até eu. É assim que me contento de ti, de momentos pequenos, palavras ditas quase em sillêncio, espaços que as vezes preenches porque és tu e não é mais ninguem. Fizeste-me encontrar o caminho de casa num momento em que tudo o que eu queria era simplesmente alguem assim como eu, que lutasse pelo que acredita, que fizesse acontecer quando todos os outros eram meros espectadores. Entras-te na minha vida de uma forma quase infantil, eras pequenino e eu pequenina era. Fomos principecinho e raposa, cativamo-nos. E quando se cativa algo, somos eternamente resposáveis pelo que se cativou. Claro que na prática nada é assim, e ainda hoje nao sei de qual nos é o principezinho e qual é a raposa. O que interessa salientar é que a forma infantil e misteriosoa com que entras-te na minha vida se tornouu em algo que agora vejo nenhum de nós esperava. O sentimento infantil que nutriamos, começou a amadurecer, os dias e a espera faziam de nós mesmos brinquedos. Limitamo-nos a seguir o curso daquilo que sentiamos, combatendo os ponteiros do relógio que teimavam em dizer-nos que o dia acabava quando ainda tanto faltava. Viramos ambos páginas, saltamos capitulos, tudo na ansia de chegarmos até nós. Nunca se devem virás páginas que nao foram lidas, nem saltar capitulos, pois a historia perde o sentido, o fio a meada perde-se e em determinado ponto aqueles que nao julgavamos lá estar entraram e formam eles mesmos um capitulo. Teremos sido fracos de mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SXai6j-ccgI/AAAAAAAAAFg/gdau8uqN3v8/s1600-h/Nao_sei_ser_sem_ti_by_UnUmBreLLa.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293597538993861122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 171px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SXai6j-ccgI/AAAAAAAAAFg/gdau8uqN3v8/s320/Nao_sei_ser_sem_ti_by_UnUmBreLLa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;? Sim, acredito que sim. Há sempre a dedicação e o tempo, embora nao seja igual para toda a gente. Há sempre o esforço, a vontade e o amor. O amor. Esqueço-me sempre que a vida é maior do que o amor. Aprendi isso contigo, embora já estivesse desconfiada que assim o fosse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mudaste-me sabes? Questões, perguntas, pontos de vista, gostos, vontades. Mudas-te as estações, e sempre que estava a teu lado ou era Verão ou era Inverno. Opostos, sim. Mas eu sempre gostei de desafios. E dei por mim já fascinada e envolta em tudo aquilo que eras. Respirarmos o mesmo ar era agora algo essencial, partilhar contigo era como ter motivo para viver e sim, o amor, o amor era enorme. Já te disse mais do que uma vez, voltei novamente a amar contigo. Antes de ti todos vinham, tocavam-me, ficavam um pouco, mas nao me tocavam a alma, nenhum deles me prendia verdadeiramente o coração, até te conhecer, até te provar, até me dares esse veneno que nao sei se é bom se é mau, porque tanto me faz feliz como infeliz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Há dias como este, em que a relidade nos cai em cima e percebemos por mais que nao queiramos que nada é assim. Que planos e pensamentos nao nos levam a lado nenhum, que se põe sempre o pé na poça e que sempre, digam o que disserem, sempre se criam esperanças quando parte de nós quer que essa esperança exista. Eu sei que disse que ja nao havia fantasia, que ja nao sonhava, eu sei, mas no fundo sei que o faço, todos os dias em que me bates a porta com esse sorriso maroto, todos os dias em que algo em ti me faz estremecer novamente. E depois há os dias, em que a realidade nos cai em cima, e percebemos que devemos é realmente perceber que nao vale a pena sonhar, que a esperança mesmo que seja a ultima a morrer, devia ja estar num estado moribundo qualquer, mesmo que receba por vezes, algumas injecções de adrenalina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Acredita muitas vezes que tenho vontade de desistir, de baixar os braços de tao cansados que estao de te acenar, um dia, e outro e outro. Mas isso vai contra tudo aquilo a que até hoje acreditei, vai contra o que ainda sinto, vai contra o que ainda por vezes vejo, vai contra aquilo em que sempre acreditei. E pergunto-me, até quando? A que custo? Nao penses que nao me faço as mesmas questões que tu, nao penses que todas as noites me deito e nao penso até quando e a custo é bom ter-te aqui ou se seria melhor ja nao te ter e até quando vou conseguir continuar a acenar-te e abrir-te portas e janelas para que tenhas sempre por onde entrar, mesmo que teimes sempre em sair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hoje sei, depois de ti, depois de te apoderares de tudo aquilo que sou, que sempre estive sozinha. É ironico, uma vez que sempre estive rodeada de gente, mesmo quando estava, mesmo quando estou contigo. Sabes, a solidão sempre foi um dos meus maiores medos, sei que o teu também, mas acreditas e nao sei se o dizes para te convenceres disso mesmo, que é assim que te ves, que te consegues ver assim. A verdade meu amor, é que nao acredito, porque sei qu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SXaiLMz7psI/AAAAAAAAAFY/MSTQV2gKJaY/s1600-h/maos+by+~deniseca.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293596725321901762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SXaiLMz7psI/AAAAAAAAAFY/MSTQV2gKJaY/s320/maos+by+~deniseca.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;e precisas tanto como eu de alguem que te abrace todos os dias, que te acorde com um pequeno almoço na cama, que te diga coisas tolas porque te ama, que te faça surpresas, que te encha de mimos e carinhos, porque é disso que toda a gente precisa. De companhia. É facto comprovado que nos adaptamos, é facto comprovado que nos acomodamos e que as coisas se entranham em nós. E a verdade é no inicio se estranha e depois se entranha e tu nao foste exepção. Primeiro estranhei-te porque nunca conheci ninguem como tu e depois entranhaste-te de tal forma que todo o meu corpo é metade teu metade meu, toda a minha rotina é metade tua e metade minha. E é tao dificil sair-se da rotina e desentranhar-se o que tão bem se entranhou. Desculpa-me se divago, mas muito em mim vagueia entre um passado que está presente e um futuro incerto baseado em sonhos. Tento imaginar-me daqui a um tempo, 1semana, 1mes, 1ano. E dou por mim a pensar que nao te vou conseguir arrancar nunca de mim, pois és-me muito, tornaste-te muito. Acredito que cada vez que vir o mar me vou lembrar de ti, acredito que cada vez que alguém me disser "encosta-te a mim", é de ti que me vou lembrar. Quando chover, sei que me vai apetecer andar a chuva e sorrir porque num dia qualquer estive debaixo de chuva contigo e amei. Imagino-me a imaginar os nossos corpos nos sitios do costume e vou inventar um tema qualquer de conversa só para me poder lembrar dos dias, das noites e das tardes que passei contigo. Sei que cada vez que me deitar e tiver os pés frios é do teu corpo que me vou lembrar, das noites em que adormeci no teu peito. Acreito também que nao serei novamente capaz de amar assim, nao é cliché, sabes tão bem quanto eu, tudo aquilo porque passamos, quantas lutas travamos, cada lagrima derramada, cada mal entendido, cada abraço apertado. Mas nao serei capaz de fazer tudo isso sem pensar em ti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mas há dias em que a realidade nos cai em cima, e percebemos que tudo isso se perdeu, que nos questionamos até que ponto foi real e nao um sonho. Esta é a parte em que a garganta doi e os olhos se enchem de lágrimas, umas de felicidade porque te tive, outras de tristezas porque te perdi. Há sempre dois lados da moeda e eu confesso que ainda nao compreendo o porque deste mundo ter sempre que nos tirar tudo aquilo porque que luta, tudo aquilo em que acredita como eu acreditei no nosso amor. Procuro-te em tudo o que me rodeia na esperança de encontrar aquela pessoa que conheci, com covinhas na bochexa quando se ri e um sorriso apetitoso de quem sabe que é maroto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mas ha dias em que a realidade nos cai em cima, acabam-se os sorrisos deliciosos e percebo que nem eu sou tua nem tu és meu. E a queda e maior, embora já a esperasse-mos doi sempre, seja a que horas for, da forma que for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mafalda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;21-1-09&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Fotos: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;maos by ~deniseca e Nao_sei_ser_sem_ti_by_UnUmBreLLa inDevian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4314373205393786534?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4314373205393786534/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4314373205393786534&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4314373205393786534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4314373205393786534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/01/quando-realidade-nos-cai-em-cima.html' title='Quando a realidade nos cai em cima.'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SXai6j-ccgI/AAAAAAAAAFg/gdau8uqN3v8/s72-c/Nao_sei_ser_sem_ti_by_UnUmBreLLa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5215655141477644837</id><published>2009-01-01T21:49:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-01-07T23:29:22.367Z</updated><title type='text'>Mil formas</title><content type='html'>Queria ter mil formas para de mil formas me expressar. Ter mil caras, mil corpos, mil palavras, mil gestos para chegar até onde não consigo ir. Ter a possibilidade de fazer o dia ser maior que as 24horas para que assim tudo fosse perfeito e nada fica-se por fazer, tornando possivel dizer tudo aquilo que nao se disse, mostrar o tanto que falta mostrar, fazer o que nao se conseguiu porque o tempo é escasso, o tempo é pouco quanto tudo em nós é muito, quando tudo é muito e nao conseguimos que tudo seja tudo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há tanto de mim que desconheço, tanto de mim que desconhecem. Falta-me os gestos e as palavras, a razão de tudo e o ponto final que nao consigo colocar em tudo o que ja devia estar mais que acabado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas porque? Porque teria tudo de ter acontecido desta forma? Cansa-me viver...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já nao sei o que procuro, perdi-me entre lágimas e palavras, pensamentos e opiniões. Deixei de ser eu, passei a ser outra pessoa, aprendi a sobrerviver, desenvolvi a poção anti-sofrimento e deixo-me levar como se fosse uma folha que leva o vento. Danço consoante a musica, procuro migalhas para encontrar o regreso a casa, a casa onde fui feliz, onde tanto tive, onde tanto já me deram.&lt;br /&gt;Silêncio! É de silêncio que preciso, de irracionalidade, de parar de tentar perceber o que nao têm razão de ser, mas que o é,. De abraços apertados, de sorrisos, de ouvidos, ouvidos abertos mesmo que custe ouvir o que se diz. Quero hibernar até saber fazer as perguntas certas, compreender as questões, perceber o que nao entendo e que algém me dê respostas!! É de respostas que preciso. Curtas, simples. Sinto-me a endoidecer, dentro de mim mesma, estou cansada de batalhas, de guerras, até das palavras que tanto para mim já foram. Paz!! É de paz, para perceber, para parar, para fazer parar o que já nao doi de tanto doer. Se ao menos tudo fosse mais facil... Se pudesse-mos corrigir os erros que cometemos, apagar a dor que se causa, falar em vez de calar, deixar de imaginar e fazer acontecer, perceber que os sonhos são isso mesmo, sonhos e que nada é como se quer. Quantas vezes já dissemos adeus para tantas vezes regressar-mos? Acho que preciso de voltar a acreditar que um dia serei novamente feliz, porque ja nao sei se sei, ja nao sei o que sentir, o que pensar, o que fazer. Improviso porque mais nao sei, mais nao sou capaz. Nao sou perfeita e nao consigo mais calar, nao consigo... Desculpem-me aqueles a quem magou, desculpem aqueles que me julgam forte quando neste momento tão fraca me sinto. Desculpem aqueles me o caminho me abriram e eu nao consegui seguir, aqueles que me amam e eu nao sei amar e aqueles que nao me sabem amar e eu amo.&lt;br /&gt;Recordo tudo o que já fui, tudo aquilo que ja quis ser e tudo aquilo que hoje sou e nesmo assim nao me encontro, perdida em mim mesma estou. Entre memorias de paixao, sentimentos, felcidade e dor, lutas e batalhas perdidas, nao me encontro porque me tranformei em algo que nem mesmo eu sei o que é. Melhor? Pior? Nao sei...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5215655141477644837?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5215655141477644837/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5215655141477644837&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5215655141477644837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5215655141477644837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2009/01/mil-formas.html' title='Mil formas'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4869990218697929053</id><published>2008-11-05T02:45:00.006Z</published><updated>2009-01-15T03:25:44.475Z</updated><title type='text'>The Promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Já tanto te disse que já não te sei dizer aquilo que tanto já te disse.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Tudo aquilo que se perdeu em frases ditas, nas entrelinhas de algo que parece que nunca aconteceu&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; Ocorre-me tudo o que te poderia dizer numa só frase e não consigo, seria de mais, seria de menos, seria impossivel&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-STYLE: italic; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;A tua ausência preenche-me os dias, perdidos, imerguidos em algo que já fomos, em tudo aquilo que já dissemos em todos os gestos que se perderam, nas palavras silênciadas, na dor que nos consome. Nos passos que já demos. Queria conseguir fugir de ti. Apagar todo o sofrimento que me causas-te para que pude-se continuar. Para quê? Para fingir que já não te amo, que já não te sinto a falta. Para acreditar nas minhas próprias mentiras e me esquecer de ti e de mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal"&gt;As palavras já não têm o mesmo significado, tudo mudou. Perdesde a capacidade de amar e eu a de esperar por ti, nas noites frias e quentes, nos teus gestos perdidos e olhos fundos. Já nada significa para ti aquilo que significou antes, as palavras perderam-se assim como os sonhos, levaste-os tu, enquanto te procuravas no fundo dos meus olhos. Não soubes-te procurar-te ou não quises-te, pois todos lá te viam menos tu.&lt;/span&gt; Ficas-te perdido entre o que era amar e o que tu querias que fosse o amor. O que nunca percebes-te é que nada é como queremos, nem como tu queres, nem como eu quero. Tento explicar-te isso, mas nem isso vês, não entendes a língua que te falo pois nunca ninguem te ensinou a falar desta forma. Não sabes lidar com aquilo que desconheces e preferes ser tu a inventar outra forma de amor, preferes construir conceitos e sentimentos em vez de os entenderes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Digo-te para me esqueceres para depois te procurar, para te fazer entender que não é preciso sofrermos tanto. Para te lembrar, ou acreditar, que existe um "se", e existe sempre um "se". Mas não queres ouvir, queres que seja o tempo a dizer-te e digam o que disserem o tempo não é igual para toda a gente. O tempo consome-nos, faz-nos perder. E a ti que te fará o tempo? Dar-te-á respostas para perguntas que nem tu mesmo sabes quais são? Já te pedi uma vez e volto a pedir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Não cometas os mesmos erro que eu já cometi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal"&gt;5/11/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4869990218697929053?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4869990218697929053/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4869990218697929053&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4869990218697929053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4869990218697929053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/11/promise.html' title='The Promise'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8006593721938061323</id><published>2008-10-22T13:14:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T13:20:54.486+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Será</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;este o príncipio do fim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;Sempre quero ouvir o que tens para dizer no final....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP8agBUZHzI/AAAAAAAAADU/LoUySaP2uy8/s1600-h/broken_by_g0dot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP8agBUZHzI/AAAAAAAAADU/LoUySaP2uy8/s320/broken_by_g0dot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259952027204132658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8006593721938061323?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8006593721938061323/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8006593721938061323&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8006593721938061323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8006593721938061323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/10/ser.html' title='Será'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP8agBUZHzI/AAAAAAAAADU/LoUySaP2uy8/s72-c/broken_by_g0dot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-158259429283831713</id><published>2008-10-21T12:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T13:02:47.724+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP3E1o3McgI/AAAAAAAAAC8/b5PVnhhXfZ8/s1600-h/FP.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 341px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP3E1o3McgI/AAAAAAAAAC8/b5PVnhhXfZ8/s320/FP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259576365619638786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;font-size:85%;" &gt;Hoje não quero um dia igual aos outros, quero dizer tudo o que tenho a dizer antes que me consuma, antes que me mate por dentro esta solidão mesmo quando te tenho por perto. Porque não me sinto a fazer parte de ti. Sou alguem que tens a teu lado mas que nunca deixas entrar em ti. Alguém que amas da tua maneira, há tua maneira.&lt;br /&gt;Já me perdi muitas vezes, umas porque quis outras porque me deixei levar, mas desta vez nem sei porque me perdi, não quero ir para esse lado que escolheste e não me deixo levar. Não sei onde estou ou para onde voei quando tudo começou a desvanecer.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina.&lt;br /&gt;Apetecia-me ser pássaro e voar. Mas há qualquer coisa em ti que me faz querer ficar e qualquer coisa em mim que me faz ter vontante de voar.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei para onde me leva esta estrada, talvez nem tenha saida e me faça recuar, mas talvez tenha no fim um bom destino. Nunca gostei de fazer escolhas, perde-se sempre algo e eu estou cansada de perder...&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina outra vez.&lt;br /&gt;É tudo gigante a minha volta e o mundo e a vida sempre foram e sempre serão maiores que o amor. Já não há Romeos e Julietas e pessoas com alma de pássaro, está tudo parado, cansado, embora no fim o que se espera atingir seja o mesmo e o mesmo não passe de uma mera útupia, a felicidade.&lt;br /&gt;Acredito piamente que a felicidade é um estado de espírito, algo que se quer como um bem adquirido e que raramente é plenamente conseguido. Estamos demasiado congestionados para podermos ser felizes.&lt;br /&gt;E sinto-me grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina, avulsa, perdida numa terra que nunca será a minha, querendo ficar e querendo partir. Dividida entre o que é real e o que poderia ser real, sonhado acordada. Perdida quando julgo conhecer o caminho para casa. Querendo acreditar numa palavra ambigua que não compreendo ainda bem o que é.&lt;br /&gt;Afinal o que é o amor? Não há definição.&lt;br /&gt;E continuo grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;21/10/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-158259429283831713?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/158259429283831713/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=158259429283831713&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/158259429283831713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/158259429283831713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/10/gro-de-areia-pequenina-pequenina.html' title='Grão de areia, pequenina, pequenina'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SP3E1o3McgI/AAAAAAAAAC8/b5PVnhhXfZ8/s72-c/FP.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4792211202439303637</id><published>2008-09-12T16:07:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T16:10:57.497+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Não te perdoo, mas fico contigo?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CDEFINI%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:hyphenationzone&gt;21&lt;/w:HyphenationZone&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p 	{mso-margin-top-alt:auto; 	margin-right:0cm; 	mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; 	margin-left:0cm; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:612.0pt 792.0pt; 	margin:70.85pt 3.0cm 70.85pt 3.0cm; 	mso-header-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Tabela normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Nunca te enganei ou menti quando disse que te amava, quando disse que queria construir o meu futuro contigo, partilhar a minha vida, os meus sonhos, as minhas alegrias, as minhas desilusões, as minhas mágoas. Não menti e não o faço agora...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Agora mais do que nunca podes ter a certeza que tudo o que disse era verdade... Agora que, mesmo não conseguindo desculpar o imperdoável, resolvi ficar ao teu lado. Agora que voltaste a espetar sem dó nem piedade um punhal cujas palavras não consigo encontrar para definir ou descrever. Agora que as minhas ideias nadam em águas conturbadas e o meu coração se contorce ao ritmo deste mau estar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Acho que nunca amaste ninguém a este ponto. (...) Que um dia entendas que um pedido de desculpas, embora não seja suficiente, por vezes ajuda. Espero que um dia consigas entender o que sinto agora. O que é não conseguir desculpar-te mas ainda assim optar por não desistir e continuar ao teu lado, (...), mesmo sem um pedido de desculpas como deve ser, mesmo sem promessas de não me voltares a fazer o mesmo, mesmo sem um pedido sentido para que eu fique.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Ficarei, por vontade própria... Porque te amo. Porque não quero deitar por terra tudo o que contruímos até agora e que tu não tens a noção do tanto que já alcançamos. Até quando? Até que me voltes a ferir outra vez desta maneira e me deixes sem chão. Até que descubra que afinal não vale a pena lutar. Até que acredite de vez que tu não me amas e nunca me amaste...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Não te perdoo, mas fico contigo.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;in http://oblogdorapaz.blogs.sapo.pt/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4792211202439303637?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4792211202439303637/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4792211202439303637&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4792211202439303637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4792211202439303637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/09/no-te-perdoo-mas-fico-contigo.html' title='Não te perdoo, mas fico contigo?!'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3910849299379591756</id><published>2008-08-27T16:55:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T16:59:06.187+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Um dia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SLV5ZrwphmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/4He7V-OTl3E/s1600-h/Manto_de_Estrelas_by_Soul_fairy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SLV5ZrwphmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/4He7V-OTl3E/s320/Manto_de_Estrelas_by_Soul_fairy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239227223665903202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;vais ter de me deixar voar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3910849299379591756?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3910849299379591756/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3910849299379591756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3910849299379591756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3910849299379591756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/08/um-dia.html' title='Um dia...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SLV5ZrwphmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/4He7V-OTl3E/s72-c/Manto_de_Estrelas_by_Soul_fairy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6187512866264745322</id><published>2008-08-02T02:40:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T02:40:43.204+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Não sei</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;o que dizer quando não sei o que pensar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6187512866264745322?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6187512866264745322/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6187512866264745322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6187512866264745322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6187512866264745322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/08/no-sei.html' title='Não sei'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3480178661619403849</id><published>2008-07-17T15:58:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T16:04:59.317+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Esquece o que escrevi e les-te.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;  Foram pensamentos loucos, utopicos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;        Num dia que acabou por não existir...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3480178661619403849?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3480178661619403849/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3480178661619403849&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3480178661619403849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3480178661619403849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/07/esquece-o-que-escrevi.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1758198835953658942</id><published>2008-07-16T22:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T22:39:39.241+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Paragem de autocarro</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;Não quero ser como uma paragem de autocarro na tua vida. Não quero que me fiques a ver passar várias vezes sem entrares com medo de não ser o autocarro certo ou momento apropriado ou que tenhamos um furo. Quero que entres com os dois pés, que te ponhas ao meu lado e que guies comigo, seja para chegar a porto seguro, seja para ficar na próxima paragem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Não quero perder o momento, nem deixar de ver que ele pode existir. Quero-te na hora certa, preparado ou não. Não estou a construir, não estou a imaginar e muito menos a pedir. É apenas o querer acreditar que um dia seremos mais que isto, que um dia tudo pode acontecer. Não quero passar e ver que ainda estás no mesmo sítio há espera que te peça para entrar. Não quero ter de mudar de rota só porque me custa ver-te todos os dias ficar sentado a lutar pelo nada e pelo tudo também. Não quero cansar-me porque também eu tenho medo que nunca chegue a hora e que tenhamos um furo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;E não fujas de mim com medo de me veres passar demasiadas vezes há espera que entres, apenas quero acreditar que tudo um dia vai ser mais que isto… Que seremos mais do que já somos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Book Antiqua&amp;quot;;"&gt;16/7/2008&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1758198835953658942?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1758198835953658942/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1758198835953658942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1758198835953658942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1758198835953658942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/07/paragem-de-autocarro.html' title='Paragem de autocarro'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6097951554248155067</id><published>2008-05-26T23:13:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T23:24:32.670+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Espirais - Marjorie Estiano</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDs4NQ0MaDI/AAAAAAAAACs/8o8dJasZGns/s1600-h/Fly_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDs4NQ0MaDI/AAAAAAAAACs/8o8dJasZGns/s320/Fly_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204815594860079154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt; Se existe outra di&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;mensão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt; Em que você n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;ão é você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; Quem é qu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;e sabe a direção&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; Pra encontrar quem não&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;se vê?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; Se o tempo sempre&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;tem razão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; E tudo sempre v&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;ai mudar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; Pra que manter o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;s pés no chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Se todo mundo&lt;/span&gt; quer voar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt; Se nada tem&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;um fim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt; Quem é que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;fez o não?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Fly            by ^&lt;a class="u" href="http://arhcamtilnaad.deviantart.com/"&gt;ArhcamtIlnaad&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6097951554248155067?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6097951554248155067/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6097951554248155067&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6097951554248155067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6097951554248155067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/05/espirais-marjorie-estiano.html' title='Espirais - Marjorie Estiano'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDs4NQ0MaDI/AAAAAAAAACs/8o8dJasZGns/s72-c/Fly_by_ArhcamtIlnaad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4875978904567052622</id><published>2008-05-19T23:17:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T23:19:02.557+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Só quero ser feliz…</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDH8rOAPdgI/AAAAAAAAACk/-Qdi4l_TGqc/s1600-h/heart.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDH8rOAPdgI/AAAAAAAAACk/-Qdi4l_TGqc/s320/heart.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202216864013317634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Estou cansada dos espaços que deixas-te me branco na minha vida. Das palavras que ficaram por dizer e dos pedaços de ti que deixas-te por aqui perdidos. Não quero mais… Pintei o meu coração de vermelho sangue e mais umas quantas cores, fi-lo amar novamente, fi-lo sorrir, não como antes, é verdade, mas ele já sorri.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;Preenchi todos os espaços em branco de palavras com as cores do arco-íris que outro alguém já me deu. Esqueci as palavras que ouvi e guardei aquelas que me fazem lembrar de ti. Renasci, acordei! Guardei as recordações num lugar seguro, aprendi a viver sem ti, reconstruí-me. Vou amar mesmo que no fim me lembre de ti, mesmo que tu passes por mim. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;E agora vou meter o meu mundo inteiro dentro dos olhos de outro alguém que não tu e vou apreender a sorrir com os olhos outra vez.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Mpalma&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:78%;" &gt;19/5/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4875978904567052622?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4875978904567052622/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4875978904567052622&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4875978904567052622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4875978904567052622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/05/s-quero-ser-feliz.html' title='Só quero ser feliz…'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SDH8rOAPdgI/AAAAAAAAACk/-Qdi4l_TGqc/s72-c/heart.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-7811055612445651426</id><published>2008-05-01T23:49:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T00:03:57.881+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SBpLtjFyMxI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ruc_sY6pXjQ/s1600-h/1202366188_e4030c2297.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SBpLtjFyMxI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ruc_sY6pXjQ/s320/1202366188_e4030c2297.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195548366010987282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;ão sei usar palavras que não conheço e não quero pronunciar-me sobre daquilo que desconheço. Não sei o que me dizem os teus olhos, se sim ou se não e não sei se sabes ler os meus. Procuro respostas que mudem o sentido ás minhas perguntas. Aquelas, as mesmas de que tu tanto foges…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;            Gostava de te der conhecido antes, sem feridas ainda por sarar, sem fantasmas, sem medos. Contigo seria diferente, não estivesses tu a cometer os mesmos erros que eu. Não te iludas como eu mesma me iludi, não ignores o que é real. Não resulta, nunca resulta. Não faças o que eu tantas vezes já fiz...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;           &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2/5/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-7811055612445651426?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/7811055612445651426/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=7811055612445651426&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7811055612445651426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7811055612445651426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/05/tu.html' title='Tu'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SBpLtjFyMxI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ruc_sY6pXjQ/s72-c/1202366188_e4030c2297.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1074972624286042677</id><published>2008-04-19T20:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T20:42:49.375+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu pequeno mundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Danço comigo mesma como que a embalar a solidão.&lt;br /&gt;Não quero fazer perguntas ás quais já sei as respostas. As quais procuro entender, decifrar, compreender. O meu dicionário perdeu as letras e agora só têm imagens do que fui.&lt;br /&gt;Tento acreditar.&lt;br /&gt;Acreditar que um dia ainda serei feliz e danço, descalça no chão frio.&lt;br /&gt;Estou perdida no meio da multidão, como que louca dançando, na tentativa vã de me encontrar a mim mesma. Sei que me perdi nesta terra que nunca foi a minha, e talvez me encontre onde nunca me esperei encontrar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;br /&gt;19/4/2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1074972624286042677?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1074972624286042677/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1074972624286042677&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1074972624286042677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1074972624286042677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/04/meu-pequeno-mundo.html' title='Meu pequeno mundo'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-8359979848448559319</id><published>2008-04-11T18:34:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T18:35:03.365+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Naquele momento</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Só desejava que me tivesses abraçado...&lt;br /&gt;Com força... muita força!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-8359979848448559319?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/8359979848448559319/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=8359979848448559319&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8359979848448559319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/8359979848448559319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/04/naquele-momento.html' title='Naquele momento'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-9196246376735072146</id><published>2008-04-01T20:16:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T20:31:42.080+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Apetece-me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;vo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;ar&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;s t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;ua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;s asa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;s, a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;ga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;rr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;a-t&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;e o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;co&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;ra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;çã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;o e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;ix&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;-me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;lá&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;ca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;r.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-9196246376735072146?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/9196246376735072146/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=9196246376735072146&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/9196246376735072146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/9196246376735072146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/04/apetece-me.html' title='Apetece-me....'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5176680909673867679</id><published>2008-03-21T21:45:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-21T22:05:54.097Z</updated><title type='text'>Grão de areia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R-QxGz9MUVI/AAAAAAAAACU/b9_1VeUtQic/s1600-h/Splash_by_dbaeta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R-QxGz9MUVI/AAAAAAAAACU/b9_1VeUtQic/s320/Splash_by_dbaeta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180319464478757202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Desço até ao mar, esta tudo vazio, nada nem ninguém se vê. Soltos as recordações amarrando-as na cauda do vento com esperança que alguém as leve e eu consiga ser finalmente feliz. A culpa é tanto minha como tua, perdemo-nos os dois, eu já não te conheço e tu já não me sabes de cor. Procuro o fundo do horizonte na tentativa de me esquecer. Sinto-me como uma caçadora de sois, sentada a beira-mar, pelo céu as cavalitas, os raios de luz são os teus cabelos, as nuvens os teus olhos, mas não te vejo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Estou cansada de correr atrás de ti silenciosamente, na sombra. Cansada de me magoar a cada dia que passa com a saudade que me fazes sentir. Não tuas. Do que fomos, do que fui contigo, dos momentos que passamos juntos. Estou cansada do bater descompassado do meu coração sempre que te vê ou ouve o teu coração, já lhe disse que não adianta, mas ele teima em correr. Insiste que tu é que mandas e eu insisto que não… Quero acreditar que não.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Já se fez noite, já não vejo o horizonte e ficou tudo negro de repente, já não vejo os teus olhos em forma de nuvem nem sinto os teus caracóis como raios de sol. Agora vejo as estrelas que tantas vezes contamos juntos, as promessas que ficaram por cumprir, os sorrisos tolos de quem ama. Dói. Não porque te perdi, mas porque não se soube guardar. Já nem o mar me acalma, está cansado como eu, já não quer correr, prefere andar, romper na areia e perder-se nela. Também eu queria ser assim. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Apetece-me apertar nos braços o mundo, perder-me de ti para me poder encontrar. Sinto-me cheia de sonhos e vazia ao mesmo tempo. Tu preenches-me sem me preencheres. Já não fazes parte de mim mas não te consigo largar. Apetecia-me ser grão de areia e perder-me em todos aqueles que me pisam, agarrar-me entre meios dos dedos de alguém que me saiba amar e lá ficar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Foto:Splash_by_dbaeta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Mpalma&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: right;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;21/3/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5176680909673867679?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5176680909673867679/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5176680909673867679&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5176680909673867679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5176680909673867679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/03/gro-de-areia.html' title='Grão de areia'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R-QxGz9MUVI/AAAAAAAAACU/b9_1VeUtQic/s72-c/Splash_by_dbaeta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2146193936340372298</id><published>2008-02-27T00:02:00.006Z</published><updated>2008-02-27T00:17:03.515Z</updated><title type='text'>Believe...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R8Srhq07h2I/AAAAAAAAACM/6kpskW9hF30/s1600-h/100_1922.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R8Srhq07h2I/AAAAAAAAACM/6kpskW9hF30/s320/100_1922.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171446867048499042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Hoje&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; quero,&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hoje&lt;/b&gt; preciso&lt;b&gt;, hoje&lt;/b&gt; necessito intensamente &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;acreditar&lt;/span&gt; que &lt;b&gt;um dia te vou conseguir arrancar de mim&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; Preciso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; de acreditar para &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;tu &lt;/span&gt;puderes ser feliz e eu também. Preciso &lt;b&gt;acreditar&lt;/b&gt; porque a dor me consome e porque &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;já não consigo querer acreditar o contrário…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    Quero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; perder de ti para te &lt;b&gt;poder&lt;/b&gt; encontrar e ser finalmente aquilo que &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tu&lt;/span&gt; me ensinas-te a ser, para poder &lt;b&gt;usar as asas que me deste enquanto me ensinavas a voar&lt;/b&gt;. Q&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;uero poder olhar para dentro dos teus olhos&lt;/span&gt; e saber com todas as certezas que &lt;b&gt;nunca sai de dentro de ti&lt;/b&gt;, que só me guardas-te para me manteres em ti, &lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;assim como eu&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    Hoje&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; quero poder acreditar que &lt;b&gt;tudo tem uma razão&lt;/b&gt;, quero poder &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;acreditar&lt;/span&gt; que &lt;b&gt;te perdi para te poder ter para sempre&lt;/b&gt; e que foi bom tudo aquilo que vivemos e não quero pensar no futuro. &lt;b&gt;Quero hoje&lt;/b&gt;. Sei que vou continuar a ter falta do teu sorriso e de te ouvir o coração, &lt;b&gt;não vou negar&lt;/b&gt;, não to vou negar. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas hoje&lt;/span&gt; só quero acreditar antes de descer ao mundo real que a história que me contas&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-te&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;um dia, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;comigo&lt;/span&gt; ao colo num &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;baloiço&lt;/span&gt; com a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lua &lt;/span&gt;por testemunha, começava com &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Era uma vez…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;’&lt;/span&gt; e acabava com ‘&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;E foram felizes para sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;…’&lt;/span&gt;, nem que seja só hoje, para esquecer a dor e sentir-te aqui, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;como se quase te pudesse tocar&lt;/span&gt;…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2146193936340372298?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2146193936340372298/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2146193936340372298&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2146193936340372298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2146193936340372298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/02/believe.html' title='Believe...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R8Srhq07h2I/AAAAAAAAACM/6kpskW9hF30/s72-c/100_1922.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-133381067750801679</id><published>2008-02-18T12:56:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T13:01:29.774Z</updated><title type='text'>Margarida Rebelo Pinto in Raposas e Rapazes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R7mBi607h1I/AAAAAAAAACE/Fu5nClAHDMk/s1600-h/Bloody_Tear_by_DraculeaRiccy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 283px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R7mBi607h1I/AAAAAAAAACE/Fu5nClAHDMk/s320/Bloody_Tear_by_DraculeaRiccy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168304484291151698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="arial11preto" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sei muito bem porque te escrevo. Para me fazeres companhia. Para nunca esquecer o que tivemos, e que foi belo e certo e puro, num mundo cheio de encontrões. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Escrevo porque não tenho outra forma de tocar a eternidade&lt;/span&gt;. Porque não quero esquecer como voei num sonho quase esquecido, que me volta a tocar todos os sentidos sempre que me abraças a pedir protecção, ou te enfeitiço com beijos lânguidos &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a pedir-te para gostares de mim.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-133381067750801679?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/133381067750801679/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=133381067750801679&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/133381067750801679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/133381067750801679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2008/02/margarida-rebelo-pinto-in-raposas-e.html' title='Margarida Rebelo Pinto in Raposas e Rapazes'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R7mBi607h1I/AAAAAAAAACE/Fu5nClAHDMk/s72-c/Bloody_Tear_by_DraculeaRiccy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-7145155994063955055</id><published>2007-12-20T22:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-20T23:21:06.282Z</updated><title type='text'>Porque?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2r3KwWmGgI/AAAAAAAAAB0/jyklZpcwC8s/s1600-h/Black+and+Grey2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 276px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2r3KwWmGgI/AAAAAAAAAB0/jyklZpcwC8s/s320/Black+and+Grey2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146197288374639106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mas porque será que não te consigo arrancar de mim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque será que tudo e qualquer coisa me faz lembrar de ti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Porque me atormentas os sonhos e a alma?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque é que me persegues?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Porque é que és o meu princípio, meio e fim?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Porque é que me fazes isto se eu para ti nada sou, já nada sou?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Porque é que cada música, casa lugar, cada gesto, cada palavra,&lt;/span&gt; cada beijo é como se fosses tu, como se lá estivesses... Porque?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Porque é que tudo em mim chama por ti?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque é que acordo a pensar em ti e me deito a pensar em ti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Porque é que quando alguém fala em ti todo o meu mundo cai e eu estremeço?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque destruímos os nossos, os meus, os teus sonhos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sinto-me uma gota no meio do oceano, perdida, sem saber qual é o norte e o sul...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O mundo parece pequeno desde que se perdeu tudo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Tudo parece quebrado, vazio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;E a saudade é mais que muita quando chega a noite e o lado esquerdo chora por nós...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos tudo o que construímos, os dias, as palavras, os momentos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;E porque? Para que?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: right; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;20-12-2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;[Obridada J., foi bom ouvir-te apesar de tudo. Sabes que sempre o serás também...]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-7145155994063955055?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/7145155994063955055/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=7145155994063955055&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7145155994063955055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/7145155994063955055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/12/porque.html' title='Porque?'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2r3KwWmGgI/AAAAAAAAAB0/jyklZpcwC8s/s72-c/Black+and+Grey2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-4095073698589463436</id><published>2007-12-16T01:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-16T01:12:32.386Z</updated><title type='text'>I Remember - Keyshia Cole</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2R7RAWmGfI/AAAAAAAAABs/0QZ67y7i1TE/s1600-h/Black+and+Grey.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2R7RAWmGfI/AAAAAAAAABs/0QZ67y7i1TE/s320/Black+and+Grey.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144372206446713330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh....yea ooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh, I remember...&lt;br /&gt;and I wanna know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; Where were you, when I said I loved you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; And where were you, when I cried at night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; waking up, couldn't sleep without you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; Thinking of, all the times we shared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when my heart broke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I gave up loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; My heart couldn't take no more of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I was sad and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I walked out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I screamed I hated you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; But some how deep inside still loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; sad and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; No one knew, all the pain I went through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; All the love, I saved deep in my heart for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; Didn't know, where I would go where I would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you made me leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; And plus my heart it just,it just kept telling me so&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when my heart broke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I gave up loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; My heart couldn't take no more of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I was sad and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I walked out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I said I hated you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; But somehow deep inside still loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; So sad and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was nowhere else to go, oh.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody else to turn to, no.&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of my life,&lt;br /&gt;I promised myself I will love me first genuinely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I walked out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I gave up loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; My heart couldn't take no more of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; So sad and lonely, hey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I stormed out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; I remember when I gave up loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; I was sad and lonely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;[música mais que perfeita... quem me conhece sabe]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-4095073698589463436?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/4095073698589463436/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=4095073698589463436&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4095073698589463436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/4095073698589463436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-remember-keyshia-cole.html' title='I Remember - Keyshia Cole'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R2R7RAWmGfI/AAAAAAAAABs/0QZ67y7i1TE/s72-c/Black+and+Grey.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-293316442400220164</id><published>2007-12-08T13:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-08T13:45:37.638Z</updated><title type='text'>Imagino</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1qf0Ef-fDI/AAAAAAAAABk/XUjzjLnuRc0/s1600-h/tinking2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 287px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1qf0Ef-fDI/AAAAAAAAABk/XUjzjLnuRc0/s320/tinking2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141597641506716722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;Sei que continuo a escrever para ti, por ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Eu sei. Bem sei. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;Talves não devesse... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Não sei. Talves fosse melhor, talves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Mas se não escrevo para ti, por ti, por quem então?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; És a minha história, és o que me inspira quando tomas as palavras se juntam e por mais que tente, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;por mais que diga que não, estás sempre nas entrelinhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Talves um dia consiga superar a dor deste amor, talves. Mas não com o tempo, esse não cura, não com outro amor, não. Mas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:85%;" &gt;quando aprender a aceitar a inevitabilidade dos momentos não serem eternos,&lt;/span&gt; quando aceitar que tenho de te deixar ir para que eu mesma possa ser feliz.&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Até lá, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;imagino que me lês&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;que nos lês &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;nas entrelinhas e a um passado que está tão distante como presente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;8/12/2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto: Eu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-293316442400220164?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/293316442400220164/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=293316442400220164&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/293316442400220164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/293316442400220164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/12/imagino.html' title='Imagino'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1qf0Ef-fDI/AAAAAAAAABk/XUjzjLnuRc0/s72-c/tinking2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-2138363227366967217</id><published>2007-12-04T20:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-04T20:56:34.490Z</updated><title type='text'>Divagações</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1W-2Ef-fCI/AAAAAAAAABc/nvSTXtddm-k/s1600-h/marilia+gomes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1W-2Ef-fCI/AAAAAAAAABc/nvSTXtddm-k/s320/marilia+gomes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140224385843362850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Apetecia-me agora ligar-te e ouvir a tua voz cheia de mel como de antes, como quando eramos felizes, cheios de sonhos e planos, como antes quando me dizias que eu sorria com os olhos e eu me sentia a mulher mais feliz do mundo...  Apetecia-me dizer-te tanta coisa. Contar-te tanta coisa, matar saudades da tua voz, chorar porque é grande a dor deste amor antigo, porque é grande a saudade de ter sido maior. E a razão fala mais alto que a vontade e tudo se torna cinzento, as pessoas que passam por nós nem as ouvimos, o dia fica mais curto e mal acordamos já é noite e o amanhã é igual. Os dedos teimão em marcar o teu número, o coração quasse que se ouve no outro lado do mundo e mal chama o medo vêm e desliga...&lt;br /&gt;   É absurto tudo isto, num absurdo maior que o mar e o tempo. É absurdo gritar por ti baixinho todas as noites e sonhar acorda contigo, ver-te em cada esquina e sentir-te em cada abraço, ouvir-te mesmo no silencio, mesmo quando sei que não és tu e imagino que és. Talvés tudo isto acabe, talves... já vivi tanto tempo assim que se me esquecer de ti me esqueço de quem sou, me esqueço do mundo e de sorrir. Talvés um dia tu me ligues e eu volte a sorrir com os olhos, eu te diga tudo o que devia dizer e eu consiga ser feliz com a tua memória e o teu amor outra vez.&lt;br /&gt;   É irónico como dizemos e queremos acreditar que o tempo cura tudo... e sabemos tão bem que é mentira. O tempo apenas passa, aumenta ou diminui a dor, a saudade, o amor... mas nunca cura quando a ferida é maior que tudo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;4-12-2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-2138363227366967217?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/2138363227366967217/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=2138363227366967217&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2138363227366967217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/2138363227366967217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/12/divagaes.html' title='Divagações'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/R1W-2Ef-fCI/AAAAAAAAABc/nvSTXtddm-k/s72-c/marilia+gomes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6805996894099131887</id><published>2007-10-21T22:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T22:49:46.969+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A minha vida dava um Filme Porno-Dramático</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Devia eu ter uns 13, 14 anos quando o conheci. Ele era daqueles rapazes giros mas que mal abriam a boca saia asneira. Mas havia qualquer coisa no olhar dele que me fascinava e tudo começou ai. Ele era mais velho, um ano, não muito é verdade, mas já era mais experiente e tinha uma lista infinita de namoradas, curtes e afins. E eu não passava de uma pata choca a quem ele dizia coisas ao ouvido na esperança de levar para a cama. Sim apaixonei-me por ele. Foi ele a minha grande paixão, sempre será. Ele fazia-me cometer as loucuras mais estúpidas só para estar com ele meia hora. Nunca tive ciúmes dele. Talvez só um bocadinho. A nossa relação, no fundo não era relação nenhuma, era assim uma coisa estranha. Bastava um olhar e eu sabia o que ele estava a pensar e vice-versa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;No fundo o amor que sentiam era genuíno, verdadeiro, estavam de tal modo ligados que nada se passava com um que o outro não sentisse, apesar de nenhum dos dois assumir este amor perante si próprio. Talvez fosse o medo, medo da dependência, medo de assumir que era amor, medo de algum dia vir a perder esse amor. Sim, talvez fosse isso. Como conseguiriam viver um sem o outro? Seria impossível. Por isso não se queriam comprometer a esse nível. Não tanto pela parte dela, mas mais por ele. Não queria dar a sua parte fraca e assumir a sua dependência, e por isso tentava mostrar a sua independência.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;O nosso amor era como o jogo do gato e do rato. Ele atrás de mim para ver se conseguia o que queria e eu a fugir dele com medo. Até ai tinha tudo corrido bem. Não cobrávamos nada um ao outro, pouca ou quase ninguém sabia, ele não queria admitir, tinha vergonha, medo e principalmente a sua reputação a manter. Sim o que diriam os amigos? Fazíamos coisas loucas como ficarmos sozinhos em plena escola, eu mentia aos meus pais e ia ter com ele aos locais mais escondidos que encontrávamos. Foi a ele que dei o meu primeiro beijo e foi a ele anos mais tarde que me entreguei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Encontravam-se as escondidas, os amigos dele não sabiam de nada. Ele empenhava-se a fundo para não revelar essa relação. Que diriam os amigos? Para eles ela não era o tipo de "gaja" de quem eles perderiam o seu tempo. Ela não era propriamente bonita, o corpo dela não era esbelto e não fazia parte da claque feminina, onde só as "boas " da escola entravam. Não. Ela não era nada disso. Tinha uma beleza diferente. Era daquelas pessoas que só ao segundo olhar nos apercebemos da sua beleza. Uma beleza natural, subtil, o seu ar tímido e o seu sorriso de menina era o que o atraía mais. Tinha outras namoradas claro, mas apenas para ficar bem em frente dos amigos porque quem ele realmente queria era ela. Mas como? Como ficar com ela sem ser envergonhado pelos amigos? Ele sabia que não devia ligar ao que os amigos dizem. Ele sabe, mas isso é na teoria, porque na prática o caso e bem diferente. Ficar com ela significava abrir mão de muita coisa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E eu conhecia-o como ninguém, sabia-lhe as manhas, o cheiro, a forma das mãos, a largura dos ombros, o sabor do beijo, os gostos. Saia-o de cor, talvez melhor que a mim mesma. E ele sabia-me. Sabia o dizer, quando e onde. Aqueles sussurros ao ouvido disfarçados a combinarem encontros proibidos, as mãos dele na minha cintura, o cheiro do perfume. Apesar de todas as coisas boas, as más começaram a remoer na alma. Eram os amigos que começavam a desconfiar, era a paixão a crescer, eram as outras raparigas e aquele feitio dele de nunca se prender a ninguém. Mesmo assim ele sabia dar-me a volta, ele sabia como me conquistar. E lá no fundo eu sabia que ele gostava de mim, de uma maneira estranha, mas gostava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;Ele tinha medo que os amigos descobrissem... mas não conseguia passar um minuto sem pensar nela. Aquele corpo macio, sedoso, o cheiro dela, a sua timidez e aparente inexperiência. Aparente porque na realidade, ela de inexperiente não tinha nada. Nunca tinha tido muitos namorados, mas tinha uma habilidade natural para o satisfazer. O sexo era indescritível ela sabia exactamente o que ele queria e quando o queria. Aqueles lábios finos e bem delineados não eram só abeis no beijo, ela tinha uma arte e ele não a conseguia resistir. No sexo ela perdia toda a timidez e dava largas a sua imaginação. Era uma loucura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ele fazia-me despertar os sentimentos mais loucos que nem eu sabia que existiam. Ele mexia e remexia comigo como um furacão e éramos loucos, muito loucos. Eu sabia do que ele gostava e portava-me há altura das outras meninas que sabia que ele tinha. E gostava de lhe ver a cara com o gozo que lhe dava e saber que apesar de tudo ele voltava, ele sempre voltava para mim. Ele nunca dizia o meu nome, apenas me possuía a alma e o corpo nos sítios mais estranhos. Era a adrenalina e a paixão que nos unia que tornava tudo tão diferente. Eu dava-lhe tudo o que as outras não lhe davam, era algo mais intenso que apenas prazer. Era qualquer coisa que não conseguíamos explicar, mas que nem procurávamos entender. E quando nos separávamos, cada um seguia a sua vida como se nada fosse, até o corpo falar mais alto, até a vontade gritar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ele adorava, amava todos os momentos que passava com ela. Apesar das muitas namoradas nenhuma era como ela. Na maioria das vezes não passavam de caras e corpos bonitos que aquando do sexo limitava-se a deitar e abrir as pernas, lançando falsos gemidos e que o levavam a repulsa por estas. Nunca se preocupou em as satisfazer, limitava-se a tirar prazer pessoal, prazer este insignificante quando comparado ao que sentia com ela. Com ela dava o seu máximo, levava-a ao orgasmo vezes sem conta e cada vez com mais intensidade, era um sexo selvagem, onde não havia limites. Ela estava disposta a tudo, alias assim o exigia muitas vezes surpreendendo-o. Cada vez se tornavam mais ousados, cada vez se arriscavam mais. Não haviam locais proibidos para o sexo, nem mesmo a cabine de provas de uma das lojas do centro comercial que ficava em frente a escola., nem mesmo a sala de aula que ficava vazia após o toque. Todos os momentos e todos os locais serviam para satisfazer aquele impulso animal...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Contudo a sensação de usar e deitar fora era uma constante. Sentia-me utilizada por ele apesar de tudo. E passado um tempo tinha medo de lhe tocar sabendo que havia minutos atrás outro alguém já lhe tinha tocado. Combinamos ficar amigos, parar com as loucuras e assim era tudo mais fácil. No inicio foi complicado, andávamos na mesma escola e vê-lo todos os dias a engatar uma miúda diferente dava –&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;me a volta ao estômago. E comecei a perceber que a paixão que sentia era grande, muito grande. Apenas falávamos o essencial para não cairmos em tentação, mas ele chamava por mim, ele provocava-me com olhares que só eu conhecia e mais ninguém via.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;Por fim o que ele mais temia. Ela imponha-lhe um ultimato: ou ela ou as outras. Como poderia ele escolher...teria finalmente chegado a altura de assumir perante os amigos o seu amor. Ou não seria amor? Só sexo? Podia ser. Era maravilhoso mas não, era algo mais que isso. Mas isso significava a sua dependência de alguém. Isso era impensável. Não podia comprometer a sua liberdade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;" &gt;Tudo menos isso, não que não a quisesses, queria-a mais que tudo... mas também queria as outras. Era isso que mantinha a sua reputação...afinal de contas um peixinho de vez em quando sabe bem. Estava condenado. Ela obrigava-o a escolher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Apesar de o ter posto contra a parede eu sabia que ele nunca iria escolher. Era muito a perder e pouco a ganhar. E foi ai que percebi que não valia mais a pena. Que tinha sido tudo lindo e excitante, mas acabava ali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Depois do acordo só caímos uma vez em tentação, e foi a coisa mais bonita que me lembro de ele me ter dito até hoje, aquela noite foi mágica, ele a dizer que os meus lábios ficavam lindos há luz da Lua e a beijar-me como nunca antes tinha feito. Tudo acabou ali. E acabou na perfeição. Doía-me a alma e durante muito tempo não o vi, até ao dia em que me ligou e disse que tinha saudades minhas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Mpalma &amp;amp; Pedro&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0.9pt 0.0001pt 13.85pt; text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6805996894099131887?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6805996894099131887/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6805996894099131887&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6805996894099131887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6805996894099131887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/10/minha-vida-dava-um-filme-porno-dramtico.html' title='A minha vida dava um Filme Porno-Dramático'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3903793301422819619</id><published>2007-09-20T21:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T21:37:57.792+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mundo ao Contrário</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RvLaDuftv6I/AAAAAAAAABU/_o-fVFbbaKg/s1600-h/DSC01306.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RvLaDuftv6I/AAAAAAAAABU/_o-fVFbbaKg/s320/DSC01306.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112388284574449570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-family:Garamond;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chove quando devia fazer sol e faz sol quando devia chover. Anda tudo virado ao contrário, o meu mundo e o teu. Já não se ama como se amava e já nem os beijos são iguais. Os corações batem contigo mas sem ti e as palavras silenciosas ecoam nas paredes do quarto e no chão. Já nada é igual nem o sol que antes brilhava só para nem o som da chuva a bater na janela é igual. O sol agora é cinzento e a chuva já não faz barulho. Foram-se os sussurros e os beijos ao canto da boca, as mãos dadas e o coração nas mãos. Foram-se as tardes quentes e as noites frias. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;O mundo gira ao contrário e as estações começam no meio não tendo inicio nem fim. As cores são escuras e já não há canções de amor. Acabaram-se as cartas e as letras, as palavras e o dom. Fugiram todos contigo naquele dia. Acabaram-se os sabores doces e os olhos brilhantes, foram-se os anéis e as mãos. O pôr-do-sol já não existe a lua teima sempre em ficar. Os pés já não aquecem e o coração já não bate. &lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;Quem amamos já não nos ama e quem nos ama nos não amamos, e amar depois não chega, neste mundo ao contrário onde chove quando faz sol e faz sol quando chove, onde ainda te espero sabendo que não vens. Este mundo ao contrário de gente louca que nada nos diz onde tu andas perdido e eu a deriva, onde eu choro e tu sabes que sim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic; text-align: right; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:16;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mpalm&lt;/span&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: right;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:16;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" &gt;20-9-2007&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3903793301422819619?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3903793301422819619/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3903793301422819619&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3903793301422819619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3903793301422819619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/09/mundo-ao-contrrio.html' title='Mundo ao Contrário'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RvLaDuftv6I/AAAAAAAAABU/_o-fVFbbaKg/s72-c/DSC01306.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-5424867865501259624</id><published>2007-04-25T21:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T21:22:47.058+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Lá... naquele mar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/Ri-4Ucf0NVI/AAAAAAAAABE/LBB5Ne7IUis/s1600-h/in+car4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/Ri-4Ucf0NVI/AAAAAAAAABE/LBB5Ne7IUis/s320/in+car4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057463567946888530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Hoje ao ver passar as placas com o nome da tua cidade, hoje ao deixar para trás aquela terra, aquela zona, aquele mar, percebi...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Percebi que metade dos meus sonhos contigo eram lá, eram ali e eu deixei passar, só olhei, só soube olhar... Perdi-os e perdi a oportunidade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Metade desses sonhos ficaram lá, perdidos à beira mar. A outra metade segue comigo, espalhada entre o que podia ter sido real e o coração, abandonados a um canto como um sonho que foi adiado inumeras vezes. Nesse canto onde te guardo com um letreiro gigante que pisca com o teu nome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Metade desses sonhos nossos  que recordo, sonhos inscritos nos momentos, que tenho de ti e na metade do remorço que até hoje me persegue...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Porque hoje ao ver passar as placas pensei que estavas tão perto e tão longe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;25/4/2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-5424867865501259624?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/5424867865501259624/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=5424867865501259624&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5424867865501259624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/5424867865501259624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/04/l-naquele-mar.html' title='Lá... naquele mar'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/Ri-4Ucf0NVI/AAAAAAAAABE/LBB5Ne7IUis/s72-c/in+car4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3488902344932190499</id><published>2007-04-21T14:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:32:41.676+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RioRK4N6kvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/FrE068wVHjo/s1600-h/The_Light_s_Dead_End.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RioRK4N6kvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/FrE068wVHjo/s320/The_Light_s_Dead_End.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055872410263917298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;De&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;volta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;este&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;mar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h1 style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;h1 style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;h1 style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51); text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;foto by Inebriantia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3488902344932190499?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3488902344932190499/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3488902344932190499&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3488902344932190499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3488902344932190499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/04/de-volta-este-mar.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RioRK4N6kvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/FrE068wVHjo/s72-c/The_Light_s_Dead_End.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-6613047940932292681</id><published>2007-04-05T13:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T13:28:24.122+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sim não vou negar…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Não vou negar que me fazem falta os teus caracóis enrolados nos meus dedos, a tua boca na minha e o teu corpo colado ao meu. Ainda me fazem falta as tuas palavras, as tuas sílabas, a tua letra, a tua música. Sim não vou negar que ainda me faz falta essa tua cara de puto…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ainda me fazem falta as tardes de beijos ardentes, as noites de lua cheia a tagarelar, as tuas mãos nas minhas costas, o teu riso, o sabor dos teus lábios na minha pele, o silêncio das tuas palavras no meu ouvido, a tua respiração enquanto me abraçavas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RhTqpF8hFII/AAAAAAAAAAs/_-2bFXIxw3c/s1600-h/suspension+by+nierika.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RhTqpF8hFII/AAAAAAAAAAs/_-2bFXIxw3c/s320/suspension+by+nierika.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049919073880708226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt; Sim não vou negar que ainda te sito a falta. Não vou negar que é para ti que ainda escrevo. Porque quando entraste, num qualquer dia já há muito tempo, na minha vida fechas-te a porta e ficas-te aqui para sempre. Não disseste adeus e eu fiquei até hoje à tua espera...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque quando fechaste a porta não se abriu janela nenhuma e tu nunca sais-te daqui para outro lado qualquer. Não cumpriste as promessas e nunca me disseste adeus para que eu pudesse ser feliz outra vez… Por isso sim, não vou negar, que ainda sonho contigo, naquele baloiço só nosso, tu de cabelos dourados há lua e eu de chocolate quente e pedir que me bebesses. Não vou negar que te amei, que te amo e que sempre te irei amar. Porque nunca me disseste adeus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26/3/2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Foto: suspension by nierika&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-6613047940932292681?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/6613047940932292681/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=6613047940932292681&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6613047940932292681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/6613047940932292681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/04/sim-no-vou-negar.html' title='Sim não vou negar…'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RhTqpF8hFII/AAAAAAAAAAs/_-2bFXIxw3c/s72-c/suspension+by+nierika.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-1391527197934101348</id><published>2007-03-26T14:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T15:01:36.996+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Prender-te a mim…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Se eu te der o meu coração numa bandeja envolto ainda em pontos por alguém que já o magoou, será que não o vais partir outra vez? Promete-me que não… Deixa-me dar-te o meu coração que esta noite tanto precisa de alguém fique com ele. Pode ser só hoje, só esta noite, apenas umas horas enquanto a noite brinca com as estrelas e eu brinco com os cabelos do teu peito. E amanhã tudo seria igual e é como se tudo não tivesse passado de um sonho e se pode até esquecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RgfRfJEPjxI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RYltvsocLBw/s1600-h/self_prepared_heart__by_plectrude.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 193px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RgfRfJEPjxI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RYltvsocLBw/s320/self_prepared_heart__by_plectrude.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046232240431795986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Deixa-me contar-te histórias ao ouvido, deixa-me rir da tua cara de put&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;o q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;uando acordas de manhã, deixas-me acreditar que por momentos és o meu chão mesmo que depois me deixes cair. Deixa-me voar no teu colo, no teu beijo, na tua mão. E aperta-me com força, com medo de me perder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Se eu te der o meu coração, será que mo vais roubar e devolver partido como outrora já alguém fez? Essa sede de viver, essa liberdade exagerada que procuras, o medo de&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt; te prenderes às estrelas porque a Lua vive presa no céu, não te deixa tempo para me agarrares e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt; teres medo de me perder…&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Porque esta noite precisava que fosses o meu chão e me deixasses brincar com os cabelos do peito, porque esta noite gostava que fosses só meu e de mais ninguém. Porque esta noite apetecia-me esquecer a liberdade e prender-te a mim, porque hoje preciso e sei que no fundo tu também…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Mpalma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1-03-2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto: self_prepared_heart__by_plectrude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-1391527197934101348?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/1391527197934101348/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=1391527197934101348&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1391527197934101348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/1391527197934101348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/03/prender-te-mim.html' title='Prender-te a mim…'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/RgfRfJEPjxI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RYltvsocLBw/s72-c/self_prepared_heart__by_plectrude.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-3803082584185684552</id><published>2007-03-22T17:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-22T18:11:28.973Z</updated><title type='text'>Vem sentar-te comigo Lídia, à beira do rio.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vem sentar-te comigo&lt;/span&gt; Lídia, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;à beira do rio. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Sossegadamente fitemos o seu curso e aprendamos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Que a vida passa, e não estamos de mãos enlaçadas.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;        (Enlacemos as mãos.)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Depois pensemos, crianças adultas, que a vida &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Passa e não fica, nada deixa e nunca regressa, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Vai para um mar muito longe, para ao pé do Fado,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;        Mais longe que os deuses.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Desenlacemos as mãos, porque não vale a pena cansarmo-nos.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Quer gozemos, quer nao gozemos, passamos como o rio. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Mais vale saber passar silenciosamente &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;        E sem desassosegos grandes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Sem amores, nem ódios, nem paixões que levantam a voz, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Nem invejas que dão movimento demais aos olhos, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Nem cuidados, porque se os tivesse o rio sempre correria,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;        E sempre iria ter ao mar.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Amemo-nos tranquilamente, pensando que podiamos, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Se quise'ssemos, trocar beijos e abraços e carícias, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Mas que mais vale estarmos sentados ao pé um do outro &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        Ouvindo correr o rio e vendo-o.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Colhamos flores, pega tu nelas e deixa-as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;No colo, e que o seu perfume suavize o momento - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Este momento em que sossegadamente nao cremos em nada, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;        Pagãos inocentes da decadência.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Ao menos, se for sombra antes, lembrar-te-as de mim depois &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Sem que a minha lembrança te arda ou te fira ou te mova, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Porque nunca enlaçamos as mãos, nem nos beijamos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;        Nem fomos mais do que crianças.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;E se antes do que eu levares o o'bolo ao barqueiro sombrio, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Eu nada terei que sofrer ao lembrar-me de ti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ser-me-ás suave à memória lembrando-te assim - à beira-rio&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;        Pagã triste e com flores no regaço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; color: rgb(51, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Odes de Ricardo Reis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto: vem_sentar_te_comigo_by_m00nLight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-3803082584185684552?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/3803082584185684552/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=3803082584185684552&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3803082584185684552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/3803082584185684552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/03/vem-sentar-te-comigo-ldia-beira-do-rio.html' title='Vem sentar-te comigo Lídia, à beira do rio.'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-117086490087014439</id><published>2007-02-07T16:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-07T16:15:00.896Z</updated><title type='text'>Adeus...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/831074/The_End_by_poprage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/678426/The_End_by_poprage.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Já gastámos as palavras pela rua, meu amor, e o que nos ficou não chega para afastar o frio de quatro paredes.&lt;br /&gt;Gastámos tudo menos o silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;Gastámos os olhos com o sal das lágrimas,&lt;br /&gt;gastámos as mãos à força de as apertarmos, gastámos o relógio e as pedras das esquinas em esperas inúteis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meto as mãos nas algibeiras e não encontro nada.&lt;br /&gt;Antigamente tínhamos tanto para dar um ao outro; era como se todas as coisas fossem minhas: quanto mais te dava mais tinha para te dar.&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes tu dizias: os teus olhos são peixes verdes.&lt;br /&gt;E eu acreditava.&lt;br /&gt;Acreditava, porque ao teu lado todas as coisas eram possíveis.&lt;br /&gt;Mas isso era no tempo dos segredos, era no tempo em que o teu corpo era um aquário, era no tempo em que os meus olhos eram realmente peixes verdes.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje são apenas os meus olhos.&lt;br /&gt;É pouco mas é verdade, uns olhos como todos os outros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já gastámos as palavras.&lt;br /&gt;Quando agora digo: meu amor, já não se passa absolutamente nada.&lt;br /&gt;E no entanto, antes das palavras gastas, tenho a certeza de que todas as coisas estremeciam só de murmurar o teu nome no silêncio do meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;Não temos já nada para dar.&lt;br /&gt;Dentro de ti não há nada que me peça água.&lt;br /&gt;O passado é inútil como um trapo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E já te disse: as palavras estão gastas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adeus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;E quantas vezes já dissemos nós adeus?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-117086490087014439?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/117086490087014439/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=117086490087014439&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/117086490087014439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/117086490087014439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/02/adeus.html' title='Adeus...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116872456817735628</id><published>2007-01-13T21:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T21:48:33.296Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/968871/Cartas_by_Chargeant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/229118/Cartas_by_Chargeant.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há coisas estranhas nas nossas vidas. Pessoas que surgem vindas não sei de onde que nos enchem os dias e o espírito. Pessoas como tu que nunca sonhamos e que são reais. Pessoas que nos fazem rir de tolices e ficar vermelhos de vergonha. Tu és assim fazes-me rir com esse olhar de menino maroto e pões-me vermelha que nem um tomate quando me dizes coisas que não deves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu gosto… gosto quando sussurras, quando me olhas, quando te ris e me fazes rir, gosto da nossa loucura e da forma simples como encaramos as coisas. Gosto do perigo e da liberdade que sinto quando estou contigo. Gosto de jogar as cartas ao ar e saber, só depois de um minuto ou dois, qual foi o naipe que saiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Gosto…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;E gosto de ti!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Para alguem que podia ter sido unico... no meio de muitos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;27/12/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116872456817735628?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116872456817735628/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116872456817735628&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116872456817735628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116872456817735628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2007/01/h-coisas-estranhas-nas-nossas-vidas.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116725186028657960</id><published>2006-12-27T20:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-27T20:37:40.306Z</updated><title type='text'>Al Berto Lunário</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/465576/odio_by_agressivebullshit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/911203/odio_by_agressivebullshit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;-Vou guardar as tuas mãos na paixão que tenho por ti,&lt;br /&gt;mas não te posso revelar o meu nome, nem precisas de o saber.&lt;br /&gt;Chama-me o que quiseres, dá-me um nome para que possamos amarmo-nos.&lt;br /&gt;Aquele que tinha perdi-o no caminho até aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Pertencia a outra paixão, e já a esqueci.&lt;br /&gt;Dá-me tu um nome para eu poder ficar contigo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Al Berto Lunário&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116725186028657960?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116725186028657960/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116725186028657960&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116725186028657960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116725186028657960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/12/al-berto-lunrio.html' title='Al Berto Lunário'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116541843403812798</id><published>2006-12-06T14:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-06T15:20:34.070Z</updated><title type='text'>Leva-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Pega-me na mão e leva-me para a Lua, Marte, Plutão, tanto faz. Apen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/784319/must_look_at_the_stars__by_MystiqeGirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 301px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/699394/must_look_at_the_stars__by_MystiqeGirl.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;as tira-me daqui, seca-me as lágrimas, cola-me os sonhos e o coração, dá-me esperança e leva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;me daqui. T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;anto faz se de carro, avião, balão ou cavalo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Leva-me e pronto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Abre a porta do meu peito e entra. manda toda a gente embora, pega-me na alm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;a ao colo e voa comigo para fora do mundo, da existência e fica comigo num lugar qualuqer meio i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;ncerto no qual nunca saberás o regreço para casa e que nos faça ficar para sempre lá, juntos, a apanhar estrelas como se apanham rosas, a contar histórias como se fossem beijos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;br /&gt;Foto &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/43357360/?qo=109&amp;q=stars&amp;amp;qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116541843403812798?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116541843403812798/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116541843403812798&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116541843403812798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116541843403812798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/12/leva-me.html' title='Leva-me'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116524667603522581</id><published>2006-12-04T15:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-04T15:37:56.053Z</updated><title type='text'>Preciso...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Preciso de ti... preciso de te ver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Preciso que sejas a minha realidade de novo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/58049/1163446648_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 200px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/544098/1163446648_f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Precisava que me agarrases a mão, que me deitasses no teu colo e me contasses a tua vida, a que podia ser a nossa, e que me fizesses ver que não posso, ou não devo, amar alguém para além de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sinto-te a fugir aos pouco do meu coraçã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;o, sinto-te a desvanecer na minha memória como aqueles efeitos do PowerPoint e já nem me lembro de que sabor eram os teus beijos, se a caramelo se a tabaco ou os dois. Não quero viver os nossos sonhos com outra pessoas. Não quero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E por favor não deixes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vem para ao pé de mim, bastam-me umas horas, uns segundos só para olhar para ti e ter a certeza que és tu e depois de ti mais nada. Mais ninguem! Quero-te de novo na minha pele, pois sem ti já não sei o que sou e o quero. Só tu me davas certezas, só o nosso amor e os nossos sonhos e tu me alimentavam de vida...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Preciso de ti, mais do que nunca. Preciso voltar a acreditar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116524667603522581?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116524667603522581/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116524667603522581&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116524667603522581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116524667603522581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/12/preciso.html' title='Preciso...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116463613990221249</id><published>2006-11-27T13:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-27T14:02:19.916Z</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/108661/close1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/869986/close1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Apetecia-me gritar ao teu ouvido em tom baixinho ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; tudo aquilo que nem eu sei explicar...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116463613990221249?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116463613990221249/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116463613990221249&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116463613990221249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116463613990221249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116441459437896395</id><published>2006-11-25T00:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-25T00:29:54.406Z</updated><title type='text'>5 minutos dá para muita coisa...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/1600/323218/1161888955_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/497/2979/320/76254/1161888955_f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Bastaram meia duzia de palavras, um punhado de olhares e uns quantos toques na tua mão para tudo em mim começar a chamar por ti. Sim é loucura eu sei. Mas tudo em mim é louco e esta forma de que tenho de gostar de ti também ela é louca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Já te tinha visto antes, já te tinha olhado antes mas aquela noite mudou-me, fez-me acreditar que no mundo existem mais homens que o meu ex-namorado e tu és um deles... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Apetecia-me que neste momento o meu mundo fosse o mesmo que o teu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Sim, apetecia-me inundar a tua vida de sonhos e a minha de fantasia.&lt;br /&gt;E o que é que aquela noite me fez?&lt;br /&gt;Acho que bebi qualquer coisa que não devia...&lt;br /&gt;Acho que estou a gostar de quem não devia...&lt;br /&gt;Acho que isto é tudo muito estranho...&lt;br /&gt;Acho que mal te conheço...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Amor há primeira visto? Talvez... Pelo menos esse é mais realista!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116441459437896395?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116441459437896395/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116441459437896395&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116441459437896395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116441459437896395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/5-minutos-d-para-muita-coisa.html' title='5 minutos dá para muita coisa...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116396023752716633</id><published>2006-11-19T18:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-19T18:17:17.543Z</updated><title type='text'>A ultima vez que te vi...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/costas.mod.preto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 210px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/costas.mod.preto.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt; A última vez que te vi era sábado. Andavas de um lado para o outro sem parar como barata tonta, e eu há espera do teu olhar. Esperança de que qualquer coisa se resolvesse e me dissesses Sim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Estúpida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Como pude eu sonhar assim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Virei te costas zangada comigo, contigo, com o mundo. Principalmente contigo, porque tanto me deste e agora te negas? Porque tanto me prometes-te e agora… Chorei. Minto. Berrei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;Mpalma&lt;br /&gt;23/9/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116396023752716633?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116396023752716633/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116396023752716633&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116396023752716633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116396023752716633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/ultima-vez-que-te-vi.html' title='A ultima vez que te vi...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116320049366244357</id><published>2006-11-10T23:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-10T23:14:53.680Z</updated><title type='text'>Royalistick - Se Eu Pudesse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.serefazer.com.br/cores.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.serefazer.com.br/cores.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;"És&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;a p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;ic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;ro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;mi&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;a q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;ue&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;pr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;ee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;nc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;nh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;os &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;a p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;re&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;e b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;ra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;nc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;o"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116320049366244357?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116320049366244357/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116320049366244357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116320049366244357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116320049366244357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/royalistick-se-eu-pudesse.html' title='Royalistick - Se Eu Pudesse'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116284655121842274</id><published>2006-11-06T20:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-06T21:00:27.376Z</updated><title type='text'>Abraça-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/abraco.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/abraco.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Abraça-me antes de dizeres qualquer coisa. Qualquer que seja.&lt;br /&gt;Não estragues este momento de paz. Não estragues este nosso momento que sei que apenas durará uns minutos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abraça-me e saberei que me amas apesar de tudo, apesar do que te possa dizer a seguir. Aperta-me com força, com tanta força que nos tornaremos um só. Com tamanha força que o teu perfume será o meu e não existirá mais o teu corpo e depois o meu, mas sim o nosso. Beija-me e diz-me tudo o que nunca me disseste. Como se fosse a ultima vez que nos víssemos, como se o mundo e tudo acabasse agora.&lt;br /&gt;E diz-me… Diz-me mais uma vez. A ultima vez que me amas. Olha-me nos olhos e diz-me que já nada sentes, que já nada queres de mim. E sorri e chora depois. Quero ver-te hoje como nunca te vi. E quero que nada digas, que apenas sintas como eu sinto. Que me leias a alma. Que esqueças tudo e apagues todas as pessoas antes de mim e depois de mim também.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E deixa-me dizer-te amor, que apesar de tudo acabar um dia, serás sempre o meu tudo e o meu nada. E o meu amor também.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mpalma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;27/10/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116284655121842274?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116284655121842274/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116284655121842274&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116284655121842274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116284655121842274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/abraa-me.html' title='Abraça-me'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116239971542603599</id><published>2006-11-01T16:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-01T16:48:35.440Z</updated><title type='text'>Foi preciso...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt; Talvez tenha sido mesmo cega por não ter visto que não valia a pena. Talvez...&lt;br /&gt;Mas talvez pela primeira vez tenha lutado por alguma coisa. Talvez...&lt;br /&gt;Nem sei já o que é bom ou mau. Perdi a noção do mundo, do ser, do sentir.&lt;br /&gt;Apaguei. Desliguei.&lt;br /&gt;Fiz como tu.&lt;br /&gt;Virei a página e hoje já não és a personagem principal na novela que é a minha vida. Nem tens direito a papel secundário. Hoje és mero figurante...&lt;br /&gt;dói dizer, mas dói muito mais sentir.&lt;br /&gt;No final, quebramos os dois...&lt;br /&gt;E foi preciso matar-me mil vezes para continuar a amar-te.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;27/10/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116239971542603599?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116239971542603599/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116239971542603599&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116239971542603599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116239971542603599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/11/foi-preciso.html' title='Foi preciso...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116195919224078974</id><published>2006-10-27T15:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T15:26:32.256+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Agarrei a Lua</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/1134128770_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 269px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/1134128770_f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:85%;" &gt;Agarrei a Lua com as duas mãos, como tu me ensinas-te. E guardei-a num lugar onde ninguem nunca saberá, nem mesmo tu. Muito menos tu.&lt;br /&gt;E cantei-lhe baixinho para a embalar, sentia saudades das estrelas assim como eu sinto tuas. E enquanto lhe cantava lembrei-me de nós. De quando tu me cantavas ao ouvido e eu gostava.&lt;br /&gt;Mas a Lua não é como tu, passou a amar-me todos os dias e nem das estrelas já sentia a falta. Tu não... tu não me amas e eu já não quero sentir saudades tuas.&lt;br /&gt;E hoje é a Lua que me embala a mim, todas as noites me canta ao ouvido e me diz que já não vive sem mim. E é das estrelas que hoje tenho saudades e não de ti.&lt;br /&gt;De ti não sei. Já não sei o que quero. Tu obrigaste-me a não te querer. E já não te quero.&lt;br /&gt;Mas nem a Lua vive sem as estrelas. E eu sei que ela ainda lhes sente a falta apesar de me amar. E vai sentir sempre, para sempre. E eu também tuas... Para sempre!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto retirada &lt;a href="http://www.fotolog.com/letters_to_god/"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116195919224078974?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116195919224078974/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116195919224078974&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116195919224078974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116195919224078974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/agarrei-lua.html' title='Agarrei a Lua'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116156889656262253</id><published>2006-10-23T02:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T15:33:52.440+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Odeio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Lagrima.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Lagrima.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Odeio-te&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;. Odeio-te. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Odeio amar-te assim!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;"Odeio-te porque te foste embora. Odeio-te porque ainda sinto a tua falta. Odeio-te porque todos os dias tenho saudades tuas. Odeio pela pessoa que és. Odeio-te pela pessoa que era quando estava contigo. Odeio-te por me teres tornado uma pessoa diferente. Odeio-te por teres quebrado as minhas forças. Odeio-te por me teres mostrado as minhas fraquezas. Odeio-te por te ter que agradecer por isso. Odeio-te por me fazeres sorrir com vontade. Odeio-te por me teres feito ver que chorar não é uma vergonha. Odeio-te por teres um sorriso que ilumina o mundo que te rodeia. Odeio-te porque esse &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;sorriso me enchia de alegria. Odeio-te porque fazias questão de te rires mesmo nas conversas sérias. Odeio-te pela tua alegria de viver. Odeio-te pela tua força. Odeio-te porque sabias sempre o que dizer. Odeio-te porque quase sempre tinhas razão. Odeio-te por me fazeres dar o braço a torcer. Odeio-te porque acordavas sempre bem disposto. Odeio-te porque nunca desistias. Odeio-te porque o teu abraço era um mundo que não queria abandonar. Odeio-te porque me fazias feliz. Odeio-te porque a tua ausência é tão forte como a tua presença. Mas que raio?!... Não era mais simples não te amar?!..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in &lt;a href="http://ilhalorosae.blogs.sapo.pt"&gt;Ilha Lorosae&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116156889656262253?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116156889656262253/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116156889656262253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116156889656262253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116156889656262253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/odeio.html' title='Odeio'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116111301206175309</id><published>2006-10-17T19:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-22T14:15:49.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A nossa história</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;O restaurante cheio de amigos. A menina dos anos de um lado para o outro e eu atrás dela. Vestias uma blusa creme com umas calças de ganga, cabelo coberto de gel sempre espetado e esses teus olhos que sorriam para toda a gente. Pouco falamos ou quase nada durante o jantar. Falas-te mais com a C. e eu, eu vi-te com "olhos de ver", que é o que a minha mãe diz quando começamos realmente a ver as coisas como elas são.&lt;br /&gt;Naquela altura eras apenas um conhecido, mas aquela &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;noite ia mudar a minha vida...&lt;br /&gt;Saimos do jantar para irmos até ao bar. Foste o caminho inteiro fazendo palhaçadas e a rir, e tu tens um sorriso tão lindo... Encontras-te um daqueles senhores marroquinos e nem sei bem como conseguis-te ficar com duas flores que vendes-te a um taxista qualquer que conhecias e a outra deste á menina dos anos. Não sei que iman tens, mas conquistas toda a gente, essa tua forma de estar fascina tudo e todos e naquela noite fascinou-me a mim...&lt;br /&gt;Chegamos ao bar, sentamo-nos, bebemos qualquer coisa, na altura pouco bebias e eu também. Começamos a conversar, eu, tu e o J. rimos muito, le&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;mbro-me de me sentir feliz. Não sei que voltas o mundo deu mas acabamos sentado ao lado um do outro, o J. desapareceu e os outros andavam não sei onde. Eu tinha uma saia preta lembras-te? Um pouco acima do joelho, umas botas de cano alto pretas, uma blusa de licra vermelha e um casaco preto... Durante a conversa ficamos colados um ao outro, a tua mãe pousada no meu joelho e eu com medo de te olhar nos olhos e me lesses a alma.&lt;br /&gt;Levaste-me a casa e para mim a noite começou quando saimos do bar. Iamos os três, eu, tu e o J. a tremer de frio por todos os lados. Fomos de mãos dadas lembras-te? Não sei porque, não sei como. Sei que demos as mãos e fomos... Mo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;strei-te onde morava e ficamos um pouco a conversar na porta, os três, na altura ainda o J. não estava a fingir estar ao telefone só para nos deixar sozinhos e eu ainda não sabia que beijavas tão bem.&lt;br /&gt;Naquela noite as coisas aconteceram como por mag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;ia... Simplesmente aconteciam e nós deixavamos, nós queriamos. Quando nos despedimos, nem encontro palavras, quando nos despedimos e os nossos olhares se cruzaram, as nossas bocas acabaram coladas, não foste tu, não fui eu, fomos nós.&lt;br /&gt;Foi o melhor beijo, foi aquele beijo especial que recebes uma duas vezes na tua vida. Não sei quanto tempo durou, mas sei que foi muito. Tu tremias muito e agarravas-me a cara com uma mão e a anca com outra. Não falamos. apenas nos beijamos durante muito tempo. Lembro-me de nos rirmos da conversa do J. de a minha argola cair e de a apanhares e de nos beijarmos de novo. O mundo desapareceu e era só ali naquela hora o nosso beijo que importava. Foi tudo perfeito. Mágico e perfeiro seriam as palavras corre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;ctas.&lt;br /&gt;Não falamos do assunto, ficamos sem saber o que fazer depois, disseste-me "Adeus" e eu retribui, subi as escadas de casa com a cabeça nas nuves e o coração aos saltos.&lt;br /&gt;Ainda te lembras daquela noite? Eu lembro-me como se fosse hoje...&lt;br /&gt;Foi a partir dessa noite que me entras-te no coração, no corpo e na alma. Te ocupas-te de todo o meu ser e foste crescendo dentro de mim. Mas tudo continuou perfeito, as tuas alcunhas pra mim, as mãos dadas debaixo da messa, os beijinhos ao canto da boca, os olhares que se cruzavam! E lembras-te do filmes? Daquele filme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; onde a Pat nos filmou e disse que ali tava eu com o homem da minha vida? E tu és o homem da minha vida... Desde aquela noite que és e eu só descobri depois quando te perdi...&lt;br /&gt;E este ano vou estar sem ti, vou estar sem o teu beij&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;o e doi relembrar e saber que tudo acabou e que não posso mais inventar uma desculpa para vires ter comigo ao café se nem perto de mim já estás. Já não vou poder olhar-te nos olhos e não ter medo que me leias a alma se me conheces tão bem.... E sinto-te a falta todos os dias, como no dia em que chegei a casa depois daquele beijo e percebi que a nossa hitória tinha começado ali e me arependi de nunca ter olhado para trás, correr para ti e dizer-te naquele momento que tudo o que queria era ficar assim pra sempre. Porque o teu beijo disse-me mais que qualquer palavra alguma vez possa dizer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;E passado três anos, ainda te amo, as&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;sim como por mágia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/To%20z%3F%3F%20ha%20bu%3F%3F.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/To%20z%3F%3F%20ha%20bu%3F%3F.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116111301206175309?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116111301206175309/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116111301206175309&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116111301206175309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116111301206175309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/nossa-histria.html' title='A nossa história'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116085845076953523</id><published>2006-10-14T21:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T21:46:20.126+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://home.no.net/landea/portfolio/photography/fragile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://home.no.net/landea/portfolio/photography/fragile.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;Tens o poder de abalar todo o meu mundo como um furação.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instalas-te no meu coração e lá ficas a rodopiar, a rodopiar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E sinto-me fragil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;Sem ti sinto-me fragil...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;Desarmas-me como ninguem e eu deixo, eu quero, mas não quero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;E vais embora com tudo devastado sem te preocupares com os estragos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E sinto-me fragil aqui... sozinha sem ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116085845076953523?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116085845076953523/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116085845076953523&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085845076953523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085845076953523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/fragil.html' title='Fragil'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116085494113275645</id><published>2006-10-14T20:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T02:51:07.413+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Doi. Faz doer.</title><content type='html'>Talvez hoje tenha percebido. Talvez hoje por breves minutos tenha entendido.&lt;br /&gt;Mas quem sabe? Nunca ninguem sabe... Nem tu e muito menos eu.&lt;br /&gt;Mas senta-te. Senta-te ao pé de mim e deixa-me contar-te a verdade. Deixa-me dizer-te todos os erros que cometemos. Fica quieto e ouve. Hoje és apenas espectador da minha vida, já não tens o papel principal nem muito menos secundário. E a verdade doi. A verdade doi muito e nem sei como te dizer que talvez nem saiba como te esquecer. Que apesar de tudo apesar de tudo... Não sei!&lt;br /&gt;E se deixarmos ficar tudo como está? E se tu nunca me soltares e eu nunca te perder? Será que um dia tudo será diferente e te poderei ter nos meus braços novamente?&lt;br /&gt;Não, nunca mais...&lt;br /&gt;E a verdade é que a realidade, a realidade faz doer...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116085494113275645?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116085494113275645/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116085494113275645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085494113275645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085494113275645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/doi-faz-doer.html' title='Doi. Faz doer.'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116085440692213001</id><published>2006-10-14T20:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T19:46:01.520+01:00</updated><title type='text'>... ou final feliz?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/par%3F%3F%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/par%3F%3F%21.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;A mão que tu me deste nunca a cheguei a segurar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;As promessas que me fizes-te nunca as cheguei a sentir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;E esse teu regresso que me faz tremer, essa tua vontade de te fazer sentir-me a tua falta, dá cabo de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Esta paixão que ainda guardo, esta doce certeza que te amo do fundo do meu ser, esta vontade de te ter mais que tudo no mundo dá cada vez mais cabo de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Mas já não sonho, já não acredido e já nem sequer espero. Sentei-me no degrau da tua casa e se vieres ter comigo vou contar-te a nossa história de amor e transformar as reticências que deixas-te num final feliz, onde tu e eu somos os actores principais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116085440692213001?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116085440692213001/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116085440692213001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085440692213001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116085440692213001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/ou-final-feliz.html' title='... ou final feliz?'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116060437842933197</id><published>2006-10-11T22:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T23:10:37.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Sonhei contigo esta noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já tinha saudades confesso… A alguns meses que não sonhava, principalmente contigo. Acho que a minha mente desligou no dia em que me pediste para te dar um tempo e voas-te para o outro lado do mundo há procura de respostas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;No sonho tudo era perfeito. Como antes… Não havia pedidos de tempos nem duvidas parvas que teimavam em confundir-nos a alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;No sonho ainda me abraçavas e beijavas o pescoço quando eu menos esperava e quando eu mais queria…. No sonho ainda me chamavas linda e dizias que eu era tudo, ainda me dizia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Sonho_breve_de_um_tempo____by_riendetout.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 277px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/200/Sonho_breve_de_um_tempo____by_riendetout.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;s que querias ficar comigo e que mais ninguém importava, dizias que gostavas de&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; mim e que só pensavas em mim. Fazias-me sentir segura e confiante…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas afinal, tudo não passou de um sonho não é? E tu não me podias deixar continuar sonhar? Tinhas logo de ir para o outro lado do mundo e inventar uma desculpa esfarr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;apada para ires embora, para me expulsares da tua vida, para me magoares…? Dói cá dentro quando penso em nós, mas dói muito mais saber que tudo podia ter sido diferente, se tu não&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; fosses um puto mimado que quer ter tudo ao mesmo tempo e que tem medo do futuro, que se recusa a fazer opções e no fundo no fundo, nem sabe o que quer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Tudo tinha sido diferente se não me tivesses prometido tanta coisa, prometido que não me ias magoar nunca, que não me desiludirias, que sempre havias de gostar de mim, que quando menos esperasse me surpreenderias. Na verdade é que surpreendes-te e tudo o resto prometeste e não cumpriste. E deixas-me agora na incerteza. Será que vais mesmo cumprir as tuas promessas, não hoje, nem amanhã, mas quem sabe um dia? Ou foram apenas promessas que nunca pensaste cumprir e que à partida não irias cumprir?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Ainda te sinto a andar pela casa, as coisas que deixas-te no fundo do armário como que a inventares um r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;egresso, que ambos sabes que não vai haver, a tua pasta de dentes na casa de banho e o frasco de perfume quase vazio no teu lado da cama. Ainda te sinto de noite ao meu lado, o teu cheiro e a forma como o teu peito descia e subia com a respiração.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Agora está apenas um vazio, que as almofadas preenchem para que não me sinta sozinha e acredite por breves instantes que ainda ali dormes ao meu lado e que nada mudou, que aquele sonho bom que sonhei é a realidade, e a minha vida e a tua partida apenas o sonho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Mas ainda sonho, ainda sonho contigo, ainda sonho com os nossos momentos passados e os talvez futuros. Ainda sonho com os teus abraços, os teus beijos, o teu toque, as tuas brincadeiras, as tuas palavras, os teus olhares... Ainda sonho a todo o instante, acordada ou a dormir. E em cada lugar que me lembra de nós as borboletas ainda esvoaçam, ainda as sinto, cada vez que penso em ti, cada vez que te vejo, cada vez que te recordo na esperança que não passes a ser recordação para sempre, e porque as borboletas não mentem e porque pior do que não ver é ver e não ter, mas pior é não poder sentir…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;É como se o meu mundo andasse sempre á tua volta. Toda a minha vida começou contigo e há-de acabar c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/esperei%20por%20ti%20pra%20dan%3F%3Far.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 273px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/200/esperei%20por%20ti%20pra%20dan%3F%3Far.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ontigo, ou não seria uma vida, seria um conjunto de acontecimentos, uma forma de sobreviver a esta tua ausência. Sim realmente tudo começou contigo e no dia que te encontrei no meio da multidão e me apaixonei por esse teu ar de miúdo intelectual. O problema é que te amei demais, te dei demais e tu deixaste, e hoje estou aqui deitada nesta cama vazia a pensar onde andarás tu e se estarás a perder-te no corpo de uma Maria ou Catarina qualquer na ânsia de matares a sede que tens de viver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Será que a sede que tens de viver te chega? A sede de aproveitar tudo e viver a vida. Será que isso te chega e satisfaz? Ou não? Será que é isso que queres ou não sabes? Eu sei infelizmente há quem não saiba. Sei aquilo que sou, aquilo que quero, aquilo que não quero, ao contrário de ti. Só não sei porque é que aquilo que quero não é aquilo que tenho e será que vou voltar a ter? Pena eu ser tudo mas não ser aquilo que queres, pelo menos é o que parece.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;E vou bebendo as lágrimas que caem dos meus olhos, vou (sobre)vivendo neste mundo de loucos, vou reinventando uma vida sem ti e vou sofrendo com a tua ausência, ansiando pelo dia em que a nossa história se resolva, em que tu deixas de ser esse miúdo mimado e eu pare de sonhar contigo e perceba que a realidade é que tu fugiste para lugar incerto e talvez nem por um bocadinho penses em mim e meu me canse de esperar e aprenda a ser feliz, de novo, sem ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Mafalda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Helena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;11/10/2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fotos de DevianArt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116060437842933197?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116060437842933197/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116060437842933197&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116060437842933197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116060437842933197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/sonhei-contigo-esta-noite.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116041641688932908</id><published>2006-10-09T18:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T20:56:13.066+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Pra ti...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Fabiuh5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 196px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Fabiuh5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;É incrivél como certas pessoas tem a capacidade de fazer o tempo correr. Como é possivél conversar sobre tudo e sobre nada durante horas e mesmo assim muita coisa ficar por dizer. É bom relembrar momentos no passado onde fomos felizes, onde tudo foi mágico e ver que apesar da mágia ser diferente e de nos termos tornado pessoas diferentes, nada, ou quase nada, mudou.&lt;br /&gt;Que tu continuas o mesmo puto de sempre e eu a mesma de sempre. Que continuamos a poder conversar horas e horas sem ligar ao ponteiro do relógio que anuncia a hora do teu autocarro. É incrivél como são muitas mais as coisas que nos unem que as que nos separam.&lt;br /&gt;Estar contigo hoje foi assim.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ESPECIAL&lt;/span&gt;, cada conversa, cada sorriso, cada lembrança de uma amizade que não acaba porque nunca pode acabar. E estar contigo é sempre descobrir qualquer coisa nova, saber das tuas aventuras, observar as tuas mudanças físicas e mentais. É descobrir que neste mundo ainda há pessoas como tu que nos fazem rir e felizes simplesmente por existirem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pra ti aquele beijinho especial, aquele abraço apertado e aquele obrigado por seres quem és, sempre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116041641688932908?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116041641688932908/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116041641688932908&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116041641688932908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116041641688932908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/pra-ti.html' title='Pra ti...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116033939044371297</id><published>2006-10-08T21:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T21:29:50.456+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Inventar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/non_le_piace_la_gente__by_hypocrisie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 267px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/non_le_piace_la_gente__by_hypocrisie.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4 da manhã. Um calor imenso. Um céu cheio de estrelas e uma lua do tamanho do mundo, redonda, cheia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Não se ouvia nada. Nem carros, nem pássaros, nem pessoas, nem música. Absolutamente nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As ruas estavam desertas. Parecia que o mundo tinha parado e ninguém a tinha avisado. Andou, andou, andou... Sentou-se naquele banco perto do jardim e ficou ali a ver se alguém passava. Mas nada.. nem alma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Adormeceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Acordou com o barulho ensudecedor de carros, pássaros, cães que ladravam, passos apresandos de pessoas, conversas paralelas. Abriu os olhos e sentou-se na esperança de alguém a ver, de alguém lhe falar.&lt;br /&gt;Todos continuaram na sua vida, ninguem lhe falou, ninguem lhe olhou. Tentou por-se no meio da rua a ver se algum carro parava. Insólito! Os carros fitavam-na, passavam-lhe ao lado, as pessoas desviavam-se do seu caminho.&lt;br /&gt;Não tinha ninguem com quem falar nem sitio onde se abrigar. Não tinha nada, apenas a solidão enraizada no seu coração, na pele, no cheiro na alma!&lt;br /&gt;Voltou para casa. Inventou uma vida, um grupo de amigos, um sorriso, uma voz e tentou ser alguém. Inventou uma história, um namorado...&lt;br /&gt;Nada resultou... Continuava a ser ignorada, a ser fitada pelas pessoas. E por isso todos os dias que acordava inventava uma pessoa diferente, um riso diferente, um namorado diferente. Inventava tudo menos amigos diferentes, porque nunca os tinha tido, não sabia como deveriam ser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;E inventado tudo, curiosamente tudo foi mais facil...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116033939044371297?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116033939044371297/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116033939044371297&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116033939044371297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116033939044371297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/inventar.html' title='Inventar'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-116017233924144198</id><published>2006-10-06T22:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T23:05:39.263+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Odeio-te</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/broken.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 212px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/broken.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;“O ódio é o irmão gémeo do amor, por isso te odeio tantas vezes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio a forma como me olhas quando estás triste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio o facto de pensares que me conheces e ainda mais quando demonstras que realmente sabes como sou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio o teu sorriso quando me chamas miúda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio não saber o que sentes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio-te por me ser quase impossível falar a sério contigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio-te por não estares lá sempre que preciso (tanto quanto te adoro por me aturares as restantes vezes).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio o teu corte de cabelo desalinhado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio quando tenho saudades tuas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio-te quando não me respondes ás mensagens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio-te quando és infantil e imaturo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Odeio-te assim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;tanto quanto te amo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;por tudo e por nada, e por qualquer coisa também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;(...) “&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não sei o autor do texto nem da foto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-116017233924144198?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/116017233924144198/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=116017233924144198&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116017233924144198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/116017233924144198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/odeio-te.html' title='Odeio-te'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115991458208754594</id><published>2006-10-03T23:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T23:29:42.103+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Conta-me hisórias</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/segredo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/segredo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Abre a porta do meu quarto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Entra de mansinho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Senta-te na ponta da minha cama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;E conta-me histórias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Em voz baixa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Conta-me aquela história linda que me contas-te uma vez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;Em voz baixinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115991458208754594?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115991458208754594/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115991458208754594&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115991458208754594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115991458208754594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/conta-me-hisrias.html' title='Conta-me hisórias'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115979908935753902</id><published>2006-10-02T15:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T23:33:00.796+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Estou a aprender a ser feliz...!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/You_are_loved__so_don_t_be_sad_by_autumnmeetswinter.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 272px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/You_are_loved__so_don_t_be_sad_by_autumnmeetswinter.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Espero-te neste banco de jardim sem pressas porque sei que virás. Já não te persigo pelas ruas nem te procuro em todas as portas. Já não te grito porque estou rouca e já não choro porque se secaram todas as lágrimas.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei ondes estás nem de que matérias és feito. Não sei a tua idade e muito menos o teu nome. Não te conheço, mas sei que virás. Não te quero imaginar nem inventar, serás aquilo que a realidade me dás e eu vou aceitar. Vou agarrar a oportunidade e sorrir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Cansei-me da busca incasavél por ti, da jornada e da luta que tanto travei. Cansei-me da solidão e da tristeza, quero ser feliz! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Feliz!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Agora espero por ti neste banco de pedra cinzenta. Umas vezes sento-me para ver  se te vejo chegar, outras fecho os olhos como no jogo do &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esconda&lt;/span&gt; a ver se te sinto chegar de mansinho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Sei que virás estejas tu onde estiveres, sei que me encontrarás e que cruzaras o meu caminho. Por isso espero-te aqui neste banco de pedra cinza. Já não conto os dias nem as horas e tudo me parece mais sereno e calmo. Já não tenho a angustia no peito e a dor continua no coração... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Estou a aprender a ser feliz... outra vez!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115979908935753902?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115979908935753902/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115979908935753902&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115979908935753902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115979908935753902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/10/estou-aprender-ser-feliz.html' title='Estou a aprender a ser feliz...!'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115937795742827261</id><published>2006-09-27T18:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T18:25:57.443+01:00</updated><title type='text'>É como se....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/olho.t%20de%20longe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/olho.t%20de%20longe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; É como se a minha vida andasse sempre à tua volta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204); font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115937795742827261?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115937795742827261/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115937795742827261&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115937795742827261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115937795742827261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/09/como-se.html' title='É como se....'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115904973600756462</id><published>2006-09-23T22:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T23:15:36.040+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O suficiente</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Everywhere_I_look_You__re_all___by_Chibi_san001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Everywhere_I_look_You__re_all___by_Chibi_san001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;- Não gostavas que tudo tivesse sido diferente?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;Gostava...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;- Muito ou pouco? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;O suficiênte para poder correr atrás do tempo e dizer-lhe que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Sim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt; na hora certa, no momento exacto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;- Não percebi...&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Gostava de poder voltar no tempo. De lhe dizer tudo o que não disse, tudo o devia ter dito. De lhe ter dado todos os beijos que não pude dar e de o abraçar... Sim de o abraçar. De lhe olhar para os olhos e lhe dizer que eramos fortes, que eramos maiores que a duvida. De lhe dizer para ele nunca, nunca me deixar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;Gostava de poder voltar no tempo, para lhe mostrar tudo aquilo que agora sei melhor que nunca. Mais que antes. Que ele é aquele sabes?... Aquele que é e será para sempre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;- Pois...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115904973600756462?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115904973600756462/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115904973600756462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115904973600756462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115904973600756462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/09/o-suficiente.html' title='O suficiente'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115895415936245448</id><published>2006-09-22T20:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T20:42:39.383+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Espelhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mgrande.com/weblog/images/serenalua/espelhos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 283px;" src="http://www.mgrande.com/weblog/images/serenalua/espelhos.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Espelhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Espelhos da alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Do que fomos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Do que somos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Do que queriamos ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Espelhos mágicos. Encantados, ilusórios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Espelhos meus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115895415936245448?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115895415936245448/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115895415936245448&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115895415936245448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115895415936245448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/09/espelhos.html' title='Espelhos'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115852503547805478</id><published>2006-09-17T21:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T02:04:11.830+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Será que sabes ler o meu olhar?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Simples%20olhar.mod.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 206px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Simples%20olhar.mod.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Olha.&lt;br /&gt;Vês nos meus olhos?&lt;br /&gt;Consegues ler?&lt;br /&gt;Consegues ver tudo o que eles têm para te dizer?&lt;br /&gt;Consegues ouvi-los a implorar pelo teu corpo?&lt;br /&gt;Consegues sentir a força desta paixão?&lt;br /&gt;Vês o nosso beijo? Vês...?&lt;br /&gt;Vês a nossa felicidade? Vês?&lt;br /&gt;Lê! Lê-me a alma!&lt;br /&gt;Lê! Lê o que tenho tatuado no corpo!&lt;br /&gt;Sente! Sente o teu cheiro ainda na minha pele!&lt;br /&gt;Sente! Sente o meu toque, as minhas mãos, o meu peito nas tuas costas!&lt;br /&gt;Ouve! Ouve o meu coração, ele chama por ti!&lt;br /&gt;Ouve! Ouve a tristeza da minha alma!&lt;br /&gt;Olha nos meus olhos e diz-me aquilo que não consegues...&lt;br /&gt;Diz-me que não e eu acredito! Diz-me que nada sentes e eu desisto!&lt;br /&gt;Diz-me! Diz-me tudo o que nunca disses-te, o que nunca foste capaz!&lt;br /&gt;Conta-me histórias. Conta-me a verdade. Conta-me tudo...&lt;br /&gt;Chora comigo... Nunca te vi chorar!&lt;br /&gt;Vive! Vem viver ao meu lado.&lt;br /&gt;Vêm... Vamos ser felizes.&lt;br /&gt;Tu sabes que é possivél...&lt;br /&gt;Vêm... Vamos começar do zero... Vêm...&lt;br /&gt;Olha nos meus olhos e vêm...!&lt;br /&gt;Será que sabes ler o meu olhar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115852503547805478?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115852503547805478/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115852503547805478&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115852503547805478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115852503547805478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/09/ser-que-sabes-ler-o-meu-olhar.html' title='Será que sabes ler o meu olhar?'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115851236110501139</id><published>2006-09-17T17:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T17:59:21.130+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu e o novo Eu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/1/1173559_5b22876cfa_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/1/1173559_5b22876cfa_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;de um novo eu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;quero começar de novo, conquistar novas pessoas e reconquistar aquelas que perdi. Mas só aquelas que mereçem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sim,&lt;/span&gt; quero começar a viver, quero deixar de sonhar com a realidade ilusória.&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã quando acordar já não serei eu que escreve, serei o Eu que vive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115851236110501139?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115851236110501139/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115851236110501139&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115851236110501139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115851236110501139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/09/eu-e-o-novo-eu.html' title='Eu e o novo Eu'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115621411403553219</id><published>2006-08-22T03:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T03:35:59.970+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Esquecer-te era...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://isabellucio.home.sapo.pt/443780.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://isabellucio.home.sapo.pt/443780.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Esquecer-te era tornar a minha vida num vazio sem sentido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Quero que me contes tudo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Quero que me digas com quem falas, que filmes tens visto, a que praias tens ido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Quero que partilhes toda a tua vida comigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só dispenso que me contes que me substituiste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Não seria capaz de viver sem ti, independentemente do que tu queiras e digas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pedro Almodovar, A Lei do Desejo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Foto tirada d net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115621411403553219?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115621411403553219/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115621411403553219&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115621411403553219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115621411403553219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/esquecer-te-era.html' title='Esquecer-te era...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115610677140742516</id><published>2006-08-20T21:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T21:47:27.056+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudades</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Foco%20de%20luz.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 269px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Foco%20de%20luz.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Sonhei contigo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                                     &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"&gt;Conosco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                                                              &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;Sonhei com a felicidade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                   A nossa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                                        &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Sonhei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                                                                                                                                                                                                   &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"&gt;Não passou de um sonho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                                                                                                                                                                                                    &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Acordei...                                       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Com saudades tuas, nossas, minhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115610677140742516?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115610677140742516/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115610677140742516&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115610677140742516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115610677140742516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/saudades.html' title='Saudades'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115602373376790048</id><published>2006-08-19T22:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T21:35:50.570+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cedo de mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;    Assim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt; que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;entrei vi-te logo. Estavas de costas mas o meu olhar parou em ti. Eras um pouco mais baixo q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;ue eu e tinhas cabelos loiros. Não te vi logo a face, mas senti-te o cheiro a tabaco e um perfume que não reconheci.&lt;br /&gt;Quanto te &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;viraste e olhas-te para mim ao entrar, percebi, percebi eras tu. E logo eu que não acredito em amor há primeira vista, logo eu… Mas naquele instante soube que eras tu o homem da minha vida, “o tal”. Sorris-te e eu retribuo, falamos através do olhar, disse-te o meu nome em silêncio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt; e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Dance_by_name_of_the_rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Dance_by_name_of_the_rose.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt; tu disseste-me o teu. Bebias uma cola com sangria e imaginei como seria o sabor da tua b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;ca, o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt; cheiro da tua respiração no meu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; ouvido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Estremeci. Tu também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Fui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;para a pista e dancei só para ti. Tu sorrias-me com o olhar, observavas-me de longe e conseguia sentir o teu olhar a percorrer o meu corpo de alto a baixo. Quando parei e me encostei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt; ao bar, senti-te vir, ouvi os teus passos. Ficas-te mesmo ao meu lado no bar, roças-te o teu braço no meu num gesto pensado mentalmente e senti a tua pele quente na &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;minha que transpirava não sei se de calor se de emoção. Nada disses-te.&lt;br /&gt;Olhei-te nos olhos e eram um verde, um verde com azul que eu nunca tinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; visto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Eram lindos os teus olhos…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Amei-te desde o primeiro instante, aprendi a amar-te e tu começas-te a viver dentro de mim e partilhamos o mesmo coração durante toda aquela noite. E naquela noite tu eras o meu Romeu e eu a tua Julieta, tu o príncipe encantado e eu a Cinderella. E não havia mais ninguém para além de nós naquele bar, não havia música, só os teus olhos, não havia amigos só, o teu cheiro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas acabou tudo antes de começar… alguém entrou a dizer que havia fogo e saiu tudo a correr e eu perdi-me de ti, do teu olhar e deixei de sentir o teu cheiro. Perdi-te antes de te encontrar. E tu eu sei que eras, sim tu eras “o tal”, tu era o homem da minha vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;font&gt;Conheci-te cedo demais… Perdi-te cedo demais…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;E hoje imagino, reinvento-te e crio na minha cabeça como tudo poderia ter sido… E hoje sei que te amei naquela noite como nunca amei. É como naquela música do José Cid:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br 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style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;“É 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onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Love_by_Adlee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 202px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Love_by_Adlee.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br 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style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" 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href="http://www.deviantart.com/"&gt;daqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115602373376790048?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115602373376790048/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115602373376790048&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115602373376790048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115602373376790048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/cedo-de-mais.html' title='Cedo de mais'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115594430507222338</id><published>2006-08-19T00:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T00:44:34.930+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Baratinhas tontas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://verdadeabsoluta.net/wp-content/uploads/2006/03/jba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 333px;" src="http://verdadeabsoluta.net/wp-content/uploads/2006/03/jba.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt; Ás vezes acredito que o mundo não gira, mas sim as nossas vidas. Que o mundo não é redondo mas um bruto de um quadrado onde andamos todos às voltas. Sim, recrio-nos, a nos ser humanos, como baratinhas tontas, desnorteadas, há procura de coisas diferentes mais iguais. Sim, podemos comparar a nossa vida a um quadrado, a um bruto de um quadrado, onde andamos às voltas, com as antenas ligadas, desnorteados todos com a busca daquilo que pensamos querer e depois não queremos, com aquilo que julgamos querer e que depois já não queremos. Sim, posso mesmo resumir a nossa simples vida há metáfora de baratinhas tontas dentro de um quadrado. Corremos quatro cantos sempre há procura de qualquer coisa, percorrendo-os todos, como peregrinos há procura da capela certa para orar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt; No final, se é que existe um final, metade de nós, digo, das baratinhas, deixam de ser tontas e acomodam-se, aprende a viver com as outras baratinhas e fingem ser felizes naquele mundo quadrado que funciona como um jogo no qual metade morre e metade morre mais tarde.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt; Ok, ainda há uma parcela, ínfima, de baratinhas que tentam fugir do mundo quadrado e acabam rotuladas e “baratinhas desnorteadas e malucas” e depois é ouvir falar delas nos pequeninos hospitais para “baratinhas desnorteadas e malucas” construídos há medida para as mesmas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;16/8/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115594430507222338?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115594430507222338/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115594430507222338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115594430507222338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115594430507222338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/baratinhas-tontas.html' title='Baratinhas tontas'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115584571743540807</id><published>2006-08-17T21:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T21:23:02.160+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ornatos Violeta  - Ouvi dizer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ouvi dizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que o nosso amor acabou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pois eu nao tive a nocao do seu fim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pelo que eu ja tentei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eu nao vou ve-lo em mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Se eu nao tive a nocao de ver nascer o homem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E ao que eu vejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tudo foi para ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Uma estupida cancao que só eu ouvi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E eu fiquei com tanto para dar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E agora nao vais achar nada bem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Que eu pague a conta em raiva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ouvi dizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que o mundo acaba amanha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E eu tinha tantos planos p'ra depois&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fui eu quem virou as paginas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Na pressa de chegar até nós&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sem tirar das palavras seu cruel sentido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sobre a razao estar cega&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Resta-me apenas uma razao&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Um dia vais ser tu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E um homem como tu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Como eu nao fui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Um dia vou-te ouvir dizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sei que um dia vais dizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E pudesse eu pagar de outra forma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A cidade esta deserta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E alguém escreveu o teu nome em toda a parte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nas casas, nos carros,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nas pontes, nas ruas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Em todo o lado essa palavra repetida ao expoente da loucura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ora amarga,ora doce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Para nos lembrar que o amor é uma doenca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quando nele julgamos ver a nossa cura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115584571743540807?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115584571743540807/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115584571743540807&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115584571743540807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115584571743540807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/ornatos-violeta-ouvi-dizer.html' title='Ornatos Violeta  - Ouvi dizer'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115575914475383194</id><published>2006-08-16T21:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T21:13:11.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Apetece-me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7820/546/1600/LINHAS%20DA%20VIDA.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 221px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7820/546/1600/LINHAS%20DA%20VIDA.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Hoje…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me reinventar-te…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;Criar-te como eu quero que sejas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me deixar de ser eu…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Voar, voar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me esquecer tudo…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Levitar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me pintar…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Tudo o que ouço há minha volta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me reescrever tudo…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;O que ainda não escrevi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me brincar com a lua…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Dançar com o vento, rir com a chuva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me ser homem…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Matar o desejo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me dançar…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Ao som dos teus passos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me fugir…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Do mundo e de ti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me ser cega, surda e muda…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Só sentir, o toque, o cheiro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me rasgar… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;A tua roupa, aquela que te dei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me comer, beber…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Beber-te, comer-te!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me não existir…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Desaparecer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me tudo…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me ler… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;A tua alma, o teu interior.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me sentir… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;As penas do meu endredom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me dormir…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Sobre tudo, sobre todos, nas nuvens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me ser alguém…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;Ou ninguém!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; Hoje apetece-me contrariar…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;O universo, as leis cósmicas, Deus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt; Hoje apetece-me assim… esta forma de apetecer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;16/8/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115575914475383194?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115575914475383194/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115575914475383194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115575914475383194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115575914475383194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/apetece-me.html' title='Apetece-me'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115567212011857983</id><published>2006-08-15T20:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T21:02:00.143+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 236px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;- É estranho não é?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"&gt;- O quê?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;- Como, por vezes, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;quando o pior acontece, não enlouquecemos, apenas desligamos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;( Josie Lloyd and Emlyn Rees, in Novamente Juntos )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115567212011857983?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115567212011857983/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115567212011857983&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115567212011857983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115567212011857983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/estranho-no-o-qu-como-por-vezes-quando.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115513098804749851</id><published>2006-08-09T14:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T14:43:08.053+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;title&gt;Despedida&lt;/title&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.castpost.com/Lib/playWMV1.php?filename=http://metadesdemim.castpost.com/[1155129971] Despedida.wmv&amp;width=400&amp;height=300" width="404" height="372" frameborder="0" scrolling=No&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br&gt;Powered by &lt;a href='http://www.castpost.com'&gt;Castpost&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115513098804749851?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115513098804749851/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115513098804749851&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115513098804749851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115513098804749851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/despedida-powered-by-castpost_09.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115496298054304137</id><published>2006-08-07T15:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T16:07:40.173+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye my love...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tinypic.com/5behz"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://tinypic.com/5behz" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fumo cigarro atrás de cigarro, na esperança vã que o fumo leve tudo o que não quero sentir. Olho para o mar e imagino-te aqui, sentado comigo na areia fria desta praia quase deserta. Tenho-te na minha cabeça como se fosse impossível tirar-te de lá.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Penso em tudo, nos meus supostos amigos que perdi quando desci para a praia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mas, não os terei perdido antes?                                                                                                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Penso em ti... sinto-te a falta, desejo-te entre as lágrimas que caem dos meus olhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Perdi tudo. Os sonhos, a ti, os amigos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Não tenho nada...                                                                                   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Esta praia parece-me pequena sem ti, tu que me fizeste acreditar e sonhar. Fechei o meu coração para tudo e todos, só te guardei a ti a pensar que um dia voltarias e tudo o que sinto seria esquecido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por ti esqueceria tudo, morreria!                                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A Lua faz-me companhia e diz-me que talvez haja tempo e lugar para nós. Não acredito. Já te perdi vezes demais, já perdi tudo vezes demais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;E hoje sei, que eu tinha razão e a Lua não. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Quando se perde tudo, não há nem tempo nem lugar para nós...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;4/8/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I am a dreamer but when I wake,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And as you move on, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;remember me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;Remember us and all we used to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I've watched you sleeping for a while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I'd be the father of your child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I'd spend a lifetime with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I know your fears and you know mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We've had our doubts&lt;/span&gt; but now we're fine,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;And I love you, I swear that's true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;I cannot live without you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;Goodbye my lover.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;Goodbye my friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;You have been the one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;You have been the one for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm so hollow, baby&lt;/span&gt;, I'm so hollow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Goodbye My Lover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;James Blunt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115496298054304137?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115496298054304137/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115496298054304137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115496298054304137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115496298054304137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/08/goodbye-my-love.html' title='Goodbye my love...'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115409051981994656</id><published>2006-07-28T13:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T13:46:22.640+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mar de emoções</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Anacanela.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 180px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Anacanela.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Assim que chegou enterrou os pés na areia. Fechou os olhos e sentiu a brisa a bater-lhe na cara. Cheirou aquele cheiro a mar que tanto adorava e foi em direcção à beira-mar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;    Estava maré baixa e a praia deserta, comparou a praia há sua vida: deserta. Desde que ele se tinha ido embora tudo ficou deserto, todos os sentimentos  se perderam num turbilhão, todos os momentos se perderam num vendaval e tudo o que ficou dito desapareceu, só restou a dor e a vontade de mudar tudo, construir uma máquina do tempo e voltar atrás.&lt;br /&gt;Recordou os seus olhos... Lindos! O cheiro do cabelo, o encaracolado, as mãos... Recordou cada poro da pele dele, cada cheiro que ele tinha, lembrou-se de todas as expressões dele, principalmente do sorriso.&lt;br /&gt;Recordou todas as promessas, todos os planos, todos os momentos daquele amor maior que o mar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Chorou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Durante muito tempo ficou ali imóvel, sem saber o que fazer, sentindo uma mão cheia de sentimentos, ora felizes, ora tristes. Sentia tanto a falta daquele ser que lhe encheu os dias durante tanto tempo, tinha saudades de ser amada como só ele sabia ama-la, tinha vontade de o abraçar, de lhe ver os olhos e beijar a boca. Saudades de lhe sentir o cheiro do cabelo quando lhe dava beijinhos no pescoço, dos abraços fortes onde lhe pedia em silêncio que nunca a deixa-se.&lt;br /&gt;Sem saber o que fazia, ou talvez com a maior da lucidez foi de encontro ao mar. Estava frio, não havia muitas ondas, apenas uma ondulação. Encheu-se de água até aos tornozelos, depois aos joelhos, cintura, peito até que ficou submersa, a sentir-me rodeada por todos os lados, por todos os orifícios do seu corpo. Tremia de frio, começou a chover. O céu ficou cinzento e as nuvens uniram-se como que para ver o espectáculo.&lt;br /&gt;Debaixo de mar, fechou os olhos. Imaginou-o uma última vez, o ultimo beijo e beijou o mar como se fosse ele. Entregou-lhe o corpo e a alma, num gesto de desespero. Já não sentia frio, e as gotas da chuva já nem as sentia. Lentamente sentiu-se levar... A ultima coisa que viu foi o seu rosto, antes de adormecer, de se entregar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;... Sorri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;u&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto: Anacanela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115409051981994656?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115409051981994656/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115409051981994656&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115409051981994656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115409051981994656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/mar-de-emoes.html' title='Mar de emoções'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115348787843671782</id><published>2006-07-21T14:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T14:30:02.426+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quando A Chuva Passar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.helix.blogger.com.br/Estrelas%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 210px;" src="http://www.helix.blogger.com.br/Estrelas%201.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; Pra que falar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Se você não quer me ouvir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fugir agora não resolve nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Mas não vou chorar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Se você quiser partir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Às vezes a distância ajuda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;E essa tempestade um dia vai acabar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;S&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ó quero te lembrar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;De quando a gente andava nas estrelas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas horas lindas que passamos juntos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gente só queria amar e amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;E hoje eu tenho certeza&lt;br /&gt;A nossa história não termina agora&lt;br /&gt;Pois essa tempestade um dia vai acabar&lt;br /&gt;Quando a chuva passar&lt;br /&gt;Quando o tempo abrir&lt;br /&gt;Abra a janela e veja: eu sou o sol&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou céu e mar&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou seu e fim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;E o meu amor é imensidão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Ivete Sangalo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.castpost.com/Lib/playm1.php?filename=Ivete%20Sangalo%20-%20Quando%20A%20Chuva%20Passar.mp3&amp;url=http://metadesdemim.castpost.com/" frameborder="0" height="40" scrolling="no" width="250"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Powered by &lt;a href="http://www.castpost.com"&gt;Castpost&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115348787843671782?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115348787843671782/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115348787843671782&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115348787843671782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115348787843671782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/quando-chuva-passar.html' title='Quando A Chuva Passar'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115326398119336253</id><published>2006-07-18T23:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T00:20:01.886+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Contar estrelas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blogdezeus.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/chuva.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://blogdezeus.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/chuva.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt; Lembras-te daquela noite em que contamos estrelas debaixo do teu guarda-chuva azul e branco? Chovia muito, a cidade estava deserta e o odor da chuva pairava no ar. Não se viam carros na rua, nenhum animal a remexer no lixo nem se ouvia barulho, só o das gotas grossas e frias que embatiam no guarda-chuva e nos vidros dos carros, das casas. Era delicioso sentir o frio, e logo eu que adoro o frio, era bom sentir as gotas na cara, mas o melhor era sentir o teu braço há volta das minhas costas para te aqueceres.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Naquela noite contamos a estrelas debaixo do teu guarda-chuva azul e branco, fizemos promessas e pedimos desejos às estrelas cadentes que víamos passar. Naquela noite o som da chuva era a minha música preferida e o teu abraço aquecia-me mais que qualquer aquecedor, ar condicionado ou cobertor. Naquela noite dançamos há chuva, uma dança só nossa que muitos considerariam louca pelos gestos desalinhados que fazíamos. Naquela noite o mundo parou só para nós, o tempo parou só para nos ver dançar e as estrelas riam de nos e do nosso amor. A Lua essa, escondia-se entre as nuvens tímida sonhado também com um amor assim, como o nosso. Naquela noite, debaixo daquela chuva, o mundo sentiu ciúmes de nós, por nos amarmos assim, por nos entregarmos assim, por nos beijarmos e tocarmos assim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt; Depois daquela noite nada foi igual, tinha sido como um pacto, tinha reforçado aquilo que sentíamos e o principal, tínhamos mostrado ao mundo inteiro o que nos unia, o quando nos gostávamos e desejávamos e que nada, nem essa traiçoeira força que nos move, a que chamam destino, poderia impedir-nos… Depois daquela noite tudo foi diferente e no final só a lembrança de uma noite debaixo de chuva onde nos amamos como nunca ficou, o resto o destino levou, apoderou-se de nós e o inevitável aconteceu.&lt;br /&gt;   Não, o amor não acabou, esse nunca vai acabar, porque foi único, foi só nosso, ficará para sempre. O que nos afastou foi a vida, o destino, o inevitável, aquilo que acontece e temos de aceitar porque mais nada podemos fazer. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"&gt;    Perdemos os momentos, mas o amor esse, ficará para sempre, porque um amor como o nosso nunca morre, adormece, alimenta-se dos sonhos e memórias que guardamos e fica guardado naquele cantinho para quando surgir uma outra noite de chuva podermos contar estrelas debaixo dum guarda-chuva qualquer e pedir desejos ás estrelas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;19/7/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115326398119336253?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115326398119336253/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115326398119336253&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115326398119336253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115326398119336253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/contar-estrelas.html' title='Contar estrelas'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115315571633700793</id><published>2006-07-17T17:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T21:05:54.543+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Palavras soltas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://aoluar.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/foto.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 188px;" src="http://aoluar.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/foto.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Queria contar-te uma história, daquelas com um final feliz, cheia de amor. Mas não sei nenhuma… perdi-as todas quando me apaixonei por ti.&lt;br /&gt;Queria dizer-te mais que palavras… mas não sei dizer mais nada, nem falar outra língua se não a dos homens, aquela que tu me ensinas-te.&lt;br /&gt;Queria poder ser uma borboleta para te pousar no ombro, para poderes olhar para mim, para eu poder sentir o teu cheiro e ver-te mais uma vez, uma ultima vez…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; Ahhh…!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Como eu queria ser tempo para poder fazer tudo voltar a traz.&lt;br /&gt;Como queria ser vento, chuva e mar, só para te acariciar dum jeito que nunca  ninguém será capaz. Como eu queria… Queria!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;   Queria poder dançar contigo uma dança que nem eu sei! Passear contigo de mãos dadas à beiro do rio, ouvir o som da tua gargalhada…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;    Como eu queria ser o teu tudo e o teu nada, como eu queria ser o teu sim e o teu não.&lt;br /&gt;Mas tudo o que quer, tudo o que grito e sinto não passam mais do que palavras soltas que tu nunca irás apanhar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ahhh…!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5/6/2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115315571633700793?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115315571633700793/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115315571633700793&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115315571633700793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115315571633700793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/palavras-soltas.html' title='Palavras soltas'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115213465864347229</id><published>2006-07-05T22:08:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T22:24:18.683+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Nós dois</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Imagem%20485.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Imagem%20485.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;    Lá fora o vento batia forte e as gotas de chuva começavam a cair. Era noite, já estava escuro e no céu as estrelas escondiam-se a traz das nuvens.&lt;br /&gt;  Fechei a janela e regressei à sala quente e confortável onde tu dormitavas no sofá perto da lareira. A TV desliguei-a quando entrei e o teu rosto iluminado pela luz do fogo tornava-te ainda mais bonito. Sentei-me na cabeceira do sofá e murmurei-te baixinho ao ouvido: “&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ficas lindo assim…&lt;/span&gt;”. Dei-te um beijo na boca e estremeces-te abrindo os olhos cheios de sono. Disseste-me “&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Olá&lt;/span&gt;” e perguntas-te as horas. Disse-te que era tarde e que devias vir para a cama. Como resposta apertaste-me forte e impeliste-me a deitar contigo no sofá que mal dava para uma pessoa. Sussurraste-me ao ouvido que me amavas e o mundo parou para me sentir a mulher mais feliz do mundo, só por te ter comigo.&lt;br /&gt;   E ali ficamos os dois, no sofá, presos um no outro a olhar para o fogo que se consumia, a ouvir cair lá fora a chuva e a observar através da vidraça, as arvores a baloiçar lá fora de um lado para o outro, acreditando que aquele momento fosse para sempre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115213465864347229?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115213465864347229/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115213465864347229&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115213465864347229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115213465864347229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/ns-dois_05.html' title='Nós dois'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115180567606655179</id><published>2006-07-02T02:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-02T03:08:11.956+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Esquecer de qualquer maneira</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/cora%3F%3F%3F%3Fo%20nas%20m%3F%3Fos.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/200/cora%3F%3F%3F%3Fo%20nas%20m%3F%3Fos.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;Esquecer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Esquecer. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esquecer. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Esquecer-te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"&gt;Foto tirada da net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115180567606655179?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115180567606655179/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115180567606655179&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115180567606655179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115180567606655179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/07/esquecer-de-qualquer-maneira.html' title='Esquecer de qualquer maneira'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115150886323608141</id><published>2006-06-28T16:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T16:36:08.553+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poema</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://anjinhoecompanhia.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/Olhar-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 216px;" src="http://anjinhoecompanhia.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/Olhar-thumb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; Às&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;vezes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;tu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;dizias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;os &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;teus &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;olhos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;são&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;peixes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;verdes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;E &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;eu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;acreditava.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;Acreditava,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;porque&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;ao&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;teu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;lado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;todas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;coisas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;eram &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;possíveis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Mas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;isso&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;era&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;tempo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;dos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;segredos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Era&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;tempo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;em &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;teu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;corpo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;era&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;um&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;aquário.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Era&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;tempo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;em&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;os &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;meus&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;olhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;eram&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;os&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;tais&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;peixes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;verdes&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Hoje&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;são&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;apenas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;os &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;meus&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;olhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;É&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;pouco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;mas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;é&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:webdings;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;uns&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;olhos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;como&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;todos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;os&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;outros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eugénio de Andrade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115150886323608141?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115150886323608141/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115150886323608141&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115150886323608141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115150886323608141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/06/poema.html' title='Poema'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115089508259306680</id><published>2006-06-21T13:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T14:04:42.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Amo-te</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/1600/Beijo2.mod.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/497/2979/320/Beijo2.mod.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love of my life&lt;br /&gt;you´ve hurt me&lt;br /&gt;You broken my heart&lt;br /&gt;and now you leave me&lt;br /&gt;Love of my life&lt;br /&gt;can´t you see&lt;br /&gt;Bring it back&lt;br /&gt;bring it back&lt;br /&gt;Don´t take it away from me&lt;br /&gt;Because you don´t know&lt;br /&gt;What it means to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:78%;" &gt;Scorpions - Love of my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115089508259306680?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115089508259306680/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115089508259306680&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115089508259306680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115089508259306680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/06/amo-te.html' title='Amo-te'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115066491172025470</id><published>2006-06-18T22:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T22:08:31.730+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://recettes.viabloga.com/images/IMG_0072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 163px;" src="http://recettes.viabloga.com/images/IMG_0072.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hoje fiz crepes e lembrei-me de ti...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115066491172025470?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115066491172025470/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115066491172025470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115066491172025470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115066491172025470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/06/hoje-fiz-crepes-e-lembrei-me-de-ti.html' title=''/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115041333015134201</id><published>2006-06-16T00:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T14:14:24.376+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Esquecer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Ás vezes é preciso um pequeno grande passo para parar esta dor.&lt;br /&gt;É preciso uma pequena palavra com muito sentimento para o fazer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer..&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é partir para outra, avançar, apagar tudo, mesmo as coisas boas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer é&lt;/span&gt;... é perder tudo o que tu e eu fomos e o que demos um ao outro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é evitar os lugares onde fomos felizes, apagar as tuas fotos do PC, o teu número do telemovel. É não ouvir a nossa música e as que me fazem lembrar de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer é&lt;/span&gt; (sobre)viver à tua ausência, ás saudades que sinto de ti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer &lt;/span&gt;é aceitar que o passado é passado e que o futuro já não é nosso, é meu, só meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é perceber que tudo têm um fim e que o nosso chegou, que nunca anda volta a acontecer duas vezes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é entender que tudo tem o seu tempo e o seu momento para a contecer e que o nosso já passou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é querer avançar, é compreender que não podia fazer nada porque foste tu que não quizes-te recomeçar do zero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é conformar-me com a tua decisão, não entende-la, mas conformar-me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Esquecer&lt;/span&gt; é o que eu quero fazer com as memórias que me deixas-te, é o que quero fazer contigo para conseguir parar de sofrer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não ainda não te esqueci... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas vou conseguir, porque quero, porque já aceitei que não há uma segunda oportunidade para nós. Vou conseguir porque sei que "às vezes mais vale desistir que insistir", vou conseguir porque me recuso a sofrer mais, a chorar mais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vou esquecer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sei que te vou esquecer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115041333015134201?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115041333015134201/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115041333015134201&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115041333015134201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115041333015134201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/06/esquecer.html' title='Esquecer'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28162006.post-115037700709780360</id><published>2006-06-15T13:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T14:18:07.263+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Recordações</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vinhas tu a subir, e eu a descer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Avistamo-nos ao cimo de rua e continuamos...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Trazias a blusa qe te dei e as tuas calças preferidas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Estavas encharcado até aos ossos como eu, e quando me viste sorriste baixinho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Paramos em frente um do outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Olhas-te para mim confirmando se era eu e eu olhei para ti confirmando se serias tu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Não dissemos uma palavra, nem tinhamos combinado nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Olhamo-nos de relance, demos as mãos e descemos a rua debaixo de chuva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Devagar, a sentir cada gota, a saborear o momento, a sentir as nossas mãos entrelaçadas uma na outra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E descemos a rua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Sentamo-nos depois debaixo daquela árvore grande, onde tantas vezes disses-te que me amavas e onde tantas vezes te prometi ser tua para sempre.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tremias...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Evitavas olhar-me nos olhos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Levantei-me, sentia-me triste, queria ir-me embora dalí, aquele encontro não fazia sentido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Não me deixas-te mexer, nem para a frente, nem para tráz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Prendeste-me com um olhar sem palavras e com a saúdade que sentia do teu olhar que se recusava a olhar para mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;E ficamos alí os dois, naquela distância de centimetros que nos únia mais que nunca.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E nada aconteceu...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;Nenhuma palavra foi dita, não nos olhamos, nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ficamos alí apenas a matar saudades do tempo que eramos felizes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Onde tu tinhas tempo ara mim e eu te fazia promessas de amor que não me deixas-te cumprir.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28162006-115037700709780360?l=metades-de-mim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/feeds/115037700709780360/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28162006&amp;postID=115037700709780360&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115037700709780360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28162006/posts/default/115037700709780360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://metades-de-mim.blogspot.com/2006/06/recordaes.html' title='Recordações'/><author><name>_m0nd_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232218331715528616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hQcVrka_Eqw/SW_m4fngHTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/NUz0qlknTyo/S220/100_2974.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
