<?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-5369249700972000781</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:03:32.115-07:00</updated><category term='inverno'/><category term='frio e duro inverno.'/><title type='text'>petite rose poétesse</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-885520275902533433</id><published>2009-07-29T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T21:30:40.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia chuvoso</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SnEhgAB6bqI/AAAAAAAAADU/zF3E2XcbowE/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364105464822525602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SnEhgAB6bqI/AAAAAAAAADU/zF3E2XcbowE/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SnEg_GO6K5I/AAAAAAAAADM/2Om4xtDQ7Gs/s1600-h/novas+039.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;HOJE ME SINTO TRISTE, e não ligo pro que pensam sobre isso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Parece que atualmente não é muito cool sentir tristeza, todos parecem irritantemente felizes em seus fotologs, blogs e adjacências como se a vida fosse um interminável happy hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Veja bem sou saudável, tenho um emprego, tenho superior completo e um namorado gostoso, ok !minha vida é boa! mas as vezes sinto aquela pontinha que vem do fundo de algum lugar e entristesso, como qualquer ser humano, imagino eu, as vezes sou triste.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;O que acontece com o mundo, é que a idéia de felicidade instântanea está cada vez mais incorporada a nossa vida. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Você está triste???? temos a solução imediata! compre, coma, transe! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Porra! ninguém mais quer curtir uma fossinha inofensiva? ou tapeamos a sensação de insatisfação com algo consumivél ou nos entregamos a depressão total. É como se não existisse o meio termo, a ponderação.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Você levou um chute? brigou no trabalho? tá, nem é o fim do mundo, nem motivo pra fingir estar bem, tapando o buraco com algo inútil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Fique triste, por um dia olhe a chuva cair, pense, chore se for necessário, sem crise você, pode e eu também.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#330033;"&gt;Lualla&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/5369249700972000781-885520275902533433?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/885520275902533433/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=885520275902533433' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/885520275902533433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/885520275902533433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2009/07/dia-chuvoso.html' title='Dia chuvoso'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SnEhgAB6bqI/AAAAAAAAADU/zF3E2XcbowE/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-4935562209997998155</id><published>2009-07-24T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T21:45:20.006-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inverno'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frio e duro inverno.'/><title type='text'>Faxina Já!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SmqNvH8yjcI/AAAAAAAAADE/08hdq-H4PyI/s1600-h/faxina"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362254147065384386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SmqNvH8yjcI/AAAAAAAAADE/08hdq-H4PyI/s320/faxina" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;De tempos em tempos aquela limpeza sentimental tem de ser feita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Tiramos de nós aquilo que não nos convém mais, como uma peça de roupa usada que anos atrás caia tão bem e desbotou, não serve mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Okay, faxinar é preciso! mas somos humanos! e nos apegamos as coisas! mesmo a aquelas que não nos cabem mais, e quando estamos diante daquela peça que um dia foi tão desejada e que nos deixou tão linda e radiante, vem a dúvida: guardo isso e espero que um dia me sirva de novo? ou deixo meu lado autruísta falar mais alto e entrego a alguém em que vai servir melhor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Entrego, no fim a roupa é a mesma, eu é que mudei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Quem ficar com a peça fará bom uso, ou não, sabe se lá! mas depois de passado o sentimento de posse, o alívio é inevitavel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Ahhh... e como vai ser bom! olhar pro espaço vazio e pensar na roupa nova, que pode ser um casaco maravilhoso, barato e cheio de bossa, comprado em algum brechó no meu caminho ou aquele vestido dois números menores por que você nunca esteve tão bem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Prefiro pensar assim, essa vida é tão maluca! espero as boas surpresas, de braços e coração abertos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#660000;"&gt;Lualla&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/5369249700972000781-4935562209997998155?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/4935562209997998155/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=4935562209997998155' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/4935562209997998155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/4935562209997998155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2009/07/faxina-ja.html' title='Faxina Já!'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SmqNvH8yjcI/AAAAAAAAADE/08hdq-H4PyI/s72-c/faxina' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-4298798120377635620</id><published>2008-10-16T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T19:11:49.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Florescer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SPf0E5Q07LI/AAAAAAAAACM/nrStdJOtErA/s1600-h/bak+stage+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257939454906395826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SPf0E5Q07LI/AAAAAAAAACM/nrStdJOtErA/s320/bak+stage+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Hoje um sentimento primaveril me invadiu por inteira,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;e já não quis mais resentir-me com o que passou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;E quis deixar florescer em mim gérberas, lírios e anêmonas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;E não quis ser triste,pois trizteza por sí só, não combina com minhas flores, meu jardim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Deixo que o passado me impulsione para a nova estação. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;E espero que a primavera desabroche em mim .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Lualla&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/5369249700972000781-4298798120377635620?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/4298798120377635620/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=4298798120377635620' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/4298798120377635620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/4298798120377635620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/10/florescer.html' title='Florescer'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SPf0E5Q07LI/AAAAAAAAACM/nrStdJOtErA/s72-c/bak+stage+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-1812509916376843645</id><published>2008-07-24T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T19:38:22.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SIk8bucarMI/AAAAAAAAACE/Yy7UTVyVOR4/s1600-h/004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226775289561525442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SIk8bucarMI/AAAAAAAAACE/Yy7UTVyVOR4/s320/004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As vezes ainda choro, ainda penso no que foi dito e feito por nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As vezes me sinto tão triste, como se esse cinza que você deixou em mim, cobrisse o mundo todo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As vezes, mas só as vezes, acredito que por algum motivo mereci o que você me fez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;E as vezes, também sinto raiva , por um dia ter te confiado a beleza que havia aqui.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Lualla.&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/5369249700972000781-1812509916376843645?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/1812509916376843645/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=1812509916376843645' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/1812509916376843645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/1812509916376843645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SIk8bucarMI/AAAAAAAAACE/Yy7UTVyVOR4/s72-c/004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-8177791025050023900</id><published>2008-07-10T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T11:50:25.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Passional</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHZXbqTf23I/AAAAAAAAAB0/OAfi9gSlGkM/s1600-h/171992709_75b2d1943f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221456950706822002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHZXbqTf23I/AAAAAAAAAB0/OAfi9gSlGkM/s320/171992709_75b2d1943f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHZUVjRF0LI/AAAAAAAAABs/PbTOwf6wOvI/s1600-h/foto009.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Minha vida...tão Almodóvar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Mas confesso queria ser um pouco mais passional, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;menos racional e objetiva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Assim como nos filmes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;grandes tragédias ou épicos de amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Me dilatar, sofrer, chorar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;ser menos amena e mais imoral.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Ser Frida ao invés de Cecília, talvez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Ser mais Valentina e menos Lualla &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;ao menos por uma vez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lualla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/5369249700972000781-8177791025050023900?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/8177791025050023900/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=8177791025050023900' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/8177791025050023900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/8177791025050023900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/passional.html' title='Passional'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHZXbqTf23I/AAAAAAAAAB0/OAfi9gSlGkM/s72-c/171992709_75b2d1943f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-6782682605112909275</id><published>2008-07-07T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T20:23:44.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHLdgem7TeI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y2dD84jNmlY/s1600-h/ATgAAAAxstsT87zxYeuGGtvhKmJO7C2MVcrDvp95MA6hw579M-VzHGaFtT8LBDN0CYBiveLOsg7syO5S-cwhePAK5jcBAJtU9VCHODqFoG6bfrHf4k4u2dJ14q1f2w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220478468117712354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHLdgem7TeI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y2dD84jNmlY/s320/ATgAAAAxstsT87zxYeuGGtvhKmJO7C2MVcrDvp95MA6hw579M-VzHGaFtT8LBDN0CYBiveLOsg7syO5S-cwhePAK5jcBAJtU9VCHODqFoG6bfrHf4k4u2dJ14q1f2w.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por tempos a fio fui sem o ser.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meus passos e ruídos o que fui.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há pouco descobri-me o que sou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As delícias, os desprazeres, ser.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Encontrar-se, imperfeita inacabada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas repleta de possibilidades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lualla.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5369249700972000781-6782682605112909275?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/6782682605112909275/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=6782682605112909275' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/6782682605112909275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/6782682605112909275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/por-tempos-fio-fui-sem-o-ser.html' title=''/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SHLdgem7TeI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y2dD84jNmlY/s72-c/ATgAAAAxstsT87zxYeuGGtvhKmJO7C2MVcrDvp95MA6hw579M-VzHGaFtT8LBDN0CYBiveLOsg7syO5S-cwhePAK5jcBAJtU9VCHODqFoG6bfrHf4k4u2dJ14q1f2w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-1471092787293485613</id><published>2008-07-02T07:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T07:54:29.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuWP5IULDI/AAAAAAAAABU/KAGeCbZtReA/s1600-h/pimenta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218429793016753202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuWP5IULDI/AAAAAAAAABU/KAGeCbZtReA/s320/pimenta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;"Na mulher interessante a beleza é secundária, irrelevante e até mesmo desnecessária. A beleza morre nos primeiros quinze dias, num insuportável tédio visual. Era preciso que alguém fosse de mulher em mulher anunciando: ser bonita não interessa, seja interessante."&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                                     Nelson Rodrigues &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;É&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt; cansativo observar como as pessoas parecem cada vez mais iguais, homens e mulheres parecem estar numa busca desenfreada por poder e beleza, esquecendo do que há de mais belo, a essência, a subjetividade.&lt;br /&gt;Pairando no ar, há uma idéia falsa de felicidade que nos é vendida em belas embalagens, e fazendo com que deixemos de lado a decisão do que realmente desejamos, ora paremos então de nadar a favor da corrente, mesmo que isso signifique nadar contra ela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5369249700972000781-1471092787293485613?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/1471092787293485613/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=1471092787293485613' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/1471092787293485613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/1471092787293485613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/na-mulher-interessante-beleza-secundria_02.html' title=''/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuWP5IULDI/AAAAAAAAABU/KAGeCbZtReA/s72-c/pimenta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-2196819769042648614</id><published>2008-07-02T07:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T07:06:51.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eternidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuLOD70swI/AAAAAAAAABE/d7rzeej42TM/s1600-h/klint+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218417666929505026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuLOD70swI/AAAAAAAAABE/d7rzeej42TM/s320/klint+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;O filho que não veio,&lt;br /&gt;Não trouxe:&lt;br /&gt;O brilho naquele olhar.&lt;br /&gt;A bobeira em ver seus primeiros passos.&lt;br /&gt;A aflição que aquela febre lhe causaria.&lt;br /&gt;O orgulho na formatura do pré.&lt;br /&gt;A preucupação das saídas noturnas.&lt;br /&gt;A tristeza em perdê- lo para outra.&lt;br /&gt;A alegria, a decepção, o argumento, a vida.&lt;br /&gt;O filho que não veio.&lt;br /&gt;Lhe trouxe:&lt;br /&gt;O arrependimento&lt;br /&gt;A dor&lt;br /&gt;A dúvida eterna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Lualla&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/5369249700972000781-2196819769042648614?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/2196819769042648614/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=2196819769042648614' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/2196819769042648614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/2196819769042648614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/eternidade.html' title='Eternidade'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuLOD70swI/AAAAAAAAABE/d7rzeej42TM/s72-c/klint+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-7611204704807174542</id><published>2008-07-02T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T07:00:15.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Não Conto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuJo_XlujI/AAAAAAAAAA0/3KQlFpsnDSY/s1600-h/klint1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218415930536999474" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 324px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px" height="252" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuJo_XlujI/AAAAAAAAAA0/3KQlFpsnDSY/s320/klint1.jpg" width="363" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Os meus segredos são pedacinhos impuros de mim.&lt;br /&gt;São comédias, dramas e romances.&lt;br /&gt;Vidas que vivi, e sonhos que não realizei.&lt;br /&gt;Meus segredos, são passagens que guardo.&lt;br /&gt;Tão fundo, que por vezes não os alcanço. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Lualla&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/5369249700972000781-7611204704807174542?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/7611204704807174542/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=7611204704807174542' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/7611204704807174542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/7611204704807174542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/no-conto.html' title='Não Conto'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGuJo_XlujI/AAAAAAAAAA0/3KQlFpsnDSY/s72-c/klint1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-6763798793831635332</id><published>2008-07-01T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T20:13:22.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pirita</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Acreditei, quase que cega.&lt;br /&gt;Quase que pura, no teu amor.&lt;br /&gt;Deixei me levar...&lt;br /&gt;E denovo entreguei me&lt;br /&gt;Pouco a pouco.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo sem sentido, acreditei, que poderia, que merecia.&lt;br /&gt;Mas ela veio com sua navalha .&lt;br /&gt;E mas uma vez aqui me encontro.&lt;br /&gt;Onde já estive antes.&lt;br /&gt;A navalha vou rasgar o que ainda resta de você&lt;br /&gt;Sangrar, e e expulsar você de mim.&lt;br /&gt;E mesmo que nunca saiba, porque antes não diria&lt;br /&gt;Amei você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt; Lualla &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5369249700972000781-6763798793831635332?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/6763798793831635332/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=6763798793831635332' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/6763798793831635332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/6763798793831635332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/pirita.html' title='Pirita'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-5159475764802409144</id><published>2008-07-01T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T19:52:38.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>St. Jhon???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGrnDH8PC8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/eqCEF0uVs78/s1600-h/sao_joao_festa_junina_oleo_sobre_tela_yole_travassos_foto_arquivo_ybs_2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218237159119457218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGrnDH8PC8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/eqCEF0uVs78/s320/sao_joao_festa_junina_oleo_sobre_tela_yole_travassos_foto_arquivo_ybs_2006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;St. Jhon???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alguém pode me dizer o quê está acontecendo com nossas Festas Juninas?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As quermesses só tocam country, as escolas põe as pobres das crianças para fazer performaces acrobáticas, e até la em Campina Grande o arraiá ta virando carnaval.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Outro dia estava eu vendo um canal qualquer, e me vem um link, ao vivo da maior Festa Junina do Brasil, eis o quê vi: Um monte de gente rodando sincronizada e figurino digno de sapucaí, pô veja bem sou neta da Dna Antonia! cadê as festas em os rapazes tiravam as moças e dançavam ao som de um bom pé de serra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adoro inovação, me considero até moderninha, mas algumas coisas são bonitas pela sua singeleza. Guardo com carinho as histórias da minha vó, e de verdade me entristece ver nossos costumes se transformando em outras coisas, que são tudo menos típicas.&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/5369249700972000781-5159475764802409144?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/5159475764802409144/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=5159475764802409144' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/5159475764802409144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/5159475764802409144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/st-jhon.html' title='St. Jhon???'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SGrnDH8PC8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/eqCEF0uVs78/s72-c/sao_joao_festa_junina_oleo_sobre_tela_yole_travassos_foto_arquivo_ybs_2006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5369249700972000781.post-2990980724485227929</id><published>2008-07-01T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T19:08:48.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Visão Noturna</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Do alto, ela via sua vida,&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que passara naqueles anos,&lt;br /&gt;As decepções,&lt;br /&gt;ela a viu sangrar,&lt;br /&gt;a chorar&lt;br /&gt;Observou atenta, os momentos de alegria&lt;br /&gt;Tentou revivê- los,&lt;br /&gt;uma vez ,&lt;br /&gt;e outra mais.&lt;br /&gt;Quis voltar,&lt;br /&gt;Quis mudar,&lt;br /&gt;Quis viver denovo&lt;br /&gt;O encanto,&lt;br /&gt;O temor,&lt;br /&gt;O furor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não pode,&lt;br /&gt;Fechou os olhos,&lt;br /&gt;Não cerrou mais os pulsos,&lt;br /&gt;Calou . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lualla &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5369249700972000781-2990980724485227929?l=wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/feeds/2990980724485227929/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5369249700972000781&amp;postID=2990980724485227929' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/2990980724485227929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5369249700972000781/posts/default/2990980724485227929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wwwpetiterose.blogspot.com/2008/07/viso-noturna.html' title='Visão Noturna'/><author><name>Lua</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02532706964989990778</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qaN_lBWRQUY/SrI5VqPYHGI/AAAAAAAAADc/IfuiwRJrHbc/S220/vesti+azul.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
