Poemas de Capa Preta

Não sou eu, são as palavras.

Friday, June 26, 2020

M.

You're raining down my spine,
my painful painkiller,
and while you do
I slowly and gently
collect every drop of your fragrance
as you drip,
as you look into my eyes,
as you tell me about that song you love.
Posted by Rodrake at 7:56 AM
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