Shit. I need to warm my feet,
They’re cold of walking on your soul.
And little blood through me flows.
Indeed.
I need. Your flame to burn hot-red
And tincture heavens of your mind
No matter what a clever kind
You had.
I’m mad. This madness is for two
Though I’m not the beloved of yours
And you've closed the remaining doors
Love you.
devoted to...
© Copyright: Кельтский Друид, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109060806242
Свидетельство о публикации №109060806242
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