You come under the rib as the blade enters the oil,
leaving no wounds on the outside, no handle.
I decided just breath you take and
you walk without pain, quickly and safely.
Smile when you tip prick thought
and so I gently stroked the left intercostal space...
I don't take you, you stay and try to believe –
I want to feel the blade that was fused with him.
With each new stroke includes a deeper face
and it happens that steel my heart beats out the rhythm.
Are you ringing the bell sometimes desperate than prayer,
and loses the artery al milligramme...
I love you bathe in the blood stream
and kisses the blade, cutting, heart valve...
You live deep and scratched the walls inside
edge, I don't want to stab you in someone else
me...
14 мая 2011 в 14:43
Из мёртвой сказки о Принце и Поэте. Глава 278.
You come under the rib...
© Copyright: Диана Вербина, 2016
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Свидетельство о публикации №116092111061
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