The incense smoke burns
And it dances slowly
In the cold air,
Losing myself in despair,
I couldn't care less
About your state of mind
But it's your beauty divine
That leaves a mark on my heart,
A trace
That will never be erased,
And a game that will never keep us apart.
Incense
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123010503024
Свидетельство о публикации №123010503024
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