I feel the touch of your hot lips,
Your hands and breath intoxicate like wine,
They are persistent carnal grips,
But you, your flesh and soul, are not mine.
With your each new infatuation
You get experience and confidence,
But miss the chance of very short duration,
When our Lord wakes up your conscience.
You boldly embrace anew without confusion,
Your lightly part, your sorrows are not deep.
The whole life will be a carefree illusion,
You serve the love dessert for other people.
25.03.02
Love Dessert
© Copyright: Ник Ван Лубен, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102032500304
Свидетельство о публикации №102032500304
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