For the passing day,
the day mends,
the day follows the unison movement,
of your silhouette,
this consumable force you ****** in me,
are you my amorous joy,
a gliding dew that tickles the corner of my lips,
or the steady architecture of the anthill,
in its demarcation to defy the limits of love,
to bring the spirit of solitude,
the transcendence of our youth,
can it be for a moment or eternity,
that I am totally dissolved,
transforming your pain,
into red and yellow flowers,
the colorful penumbra of the rainbow,
and what does it give you: all of me.
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
For the passing day,
the day mends,
the day follows the unison movement,
of your silhouette,
this consumable force you ****** in me,
are you my amorous joy,
a gliding dew that tickles the corner of my lips,
or the steady architecture of the anthill,
in its demarcation to defy the limits of love,
to bring the spirit of solitude,
the transcendence of our youth,
can it be for a moment or eternity,
that I am totally dissolved,
transforming your pain,
into red and yellow flowers,
the colorful penumbra of the rainbow,
and what does it give you: all of me.
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