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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=497090" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>What Could Have Been Forgotten</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">what you have<br>is not forbidden</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a white porcelain cup placed on<br>top of a glazed saucer</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the jasmine tea that<br>you sip slowly <br>as light fades away</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the decent decorum of<br>well numbered<br>propriety</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they never taste<br>that good</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they are what others<br>are used to do<br>without so much thinking</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is the everyday<br>routine that<br>has taken away what<br>makes life<br>so alive & interesting<br>like some games that<br>we recently know<br>and begin to play</div><div style="margin:10px 0">mornings are same<br>mornings</div><div style="margin:10px 0">nights even with <br>all the stars<br>glistening<br>remain boring</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the air tastes bland<br>its coldness is getting to<br>be scary</div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is something<br>to what is forbidden</div><div style="margin:10px 0">that is what we yet<br>do not know</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>others who regret<br>all those that they did<br>for once and for more<br>broke their hearts into pieces</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when they sit beside<br>the window<br>watching cars passing<br>by<br>one by one<br>watching people<br>en masse<br>busy going and <br>going<br>like the ticking of the<br>hands of the clock</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they will not tell<br>you<br>that despite the<br>brokenness<br>despite the still uncollected<br>pieces</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the excitement <br>of what was forbidden and which<br>they did with so much<br>haste</div><div style="margin:10px 0">still reclaims upon<br>itself<br>the untold <br>glory<br>the climax of a series<br>of existences<br>which time buries<br>so deeply in the dust bins of<br>personal histories</div><div style="margin:10px 0">so that they<br>can all be <br>forgotten</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=497090" data-title="What Could Have Been Forgotten de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="what you have
is not forbidden

a white porcelain cup placed on
top of a glazed saucer

the jasmine tea that
you sip slowly 
as light fades away

the decent decorum of
well numbered
propriety

they never taste
that good

they are what others
are u..."></div>
</div>
</div>