O! My damned stinking tongue,
I’d wrest and feed it to jackals.
I’d grind my bones and never take a pen
‘Cause all I have to say
Is that I’m fond of every piece of you,
And that I’ll wait you till the sun will die.
About Love
© Copyright: Александр Смирнов 2, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113052701666
Свидетельство о публикации №113052701666
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