No more problems.
No more sorrow.
No more tears.
No more rain.
Your touch is rough.
Your voice is hot.
Your taste is bitter.
Your smell is sin.
I inhale you.
I breathe you.
I lit you.
I consume you.
You're my fire.
You're my soul.
You're my friend.
You're my enemy.
I need to exhale to lose you.
31.10.2005
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Claudio Micale.
Published on e-Stories.org on 31.10.2005.
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