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best love poems

le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
je descends les chemins de jardin
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
mais alas, rêves justes
il y a mille années silencieuses
je suis le vent qui hésite
je vous attends
doucement pleurant
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
souvent je pense à la belle ville
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques

 



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