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erotic poetry

agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
era uma beleza nos dias
melancolia, azul era
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
ruídos que strive rasgar
diz de épocas velhas boas
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
eu sou o vento que wavers
eu disse
escute

 



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