that when it is sunlight
and that when it leaves the breeze
perfuming the night
as perfumes the day.
What is this woman who falls
the eternal folly of not loving
loving everything she creates.
And that crams the frame
and stirs the inks of life
and hiding in painting
of their flesh wound.
Blonde, sun and vanity
Actress of my fantasy
Real woman
but just a girl
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário
DESENTUPA AQUI!