the day is so much beauty
stamens out you eyes. The minute
: 6 minutes
and coffee mixed with the taste of champagne, still maintains
mysticism of the wires that touch me and I
bind.
like leather,
'm not really free,
not write poems,
and I love you not. Already missing
4. At the waist,
something male A woman gets tired of looking at me.
I'm yours, not minutes. Salgo
stampede, in seconds.
sleep in other beds,
between your dreams and gleaning the treasure map.
The hieroglyph
never understand in my heart mending
words.
counting backwards back then. Be
when physical proximity ...
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