It goes with capital letter “V”.
A name of love. A name I never say.
It comes from inner hard disease.
From sufferings of him. From his December rain.
He has the strength of letters and of words
When he keeps silence far from being enigmatic.
And deep within he has the boundless core
when he is hollow, selfish, and unromantic.
What makes me wait if I am in love with fleetingness?
What makes me dive if I can’t really swim?
Makes me remain myself to be my own witness
If I am all temptation of being only him
How come? It goes with capital letter “V”
I did forget the other part of name.
How come? I love the face I fail to see.
The only face which has reflection of my bane.
it goes with capital letter
© Copyright: Эрика Брюнхильд, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106011002549
Свидетельство о публикации №106011002549
Рецензии