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love poetry

foncé-eyed
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
beaux, tragical visages
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
je suis une femme
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave

 



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