15-1-2010
The comfort of the reflected light on a mud colored shirt
Passing through the window
The smell of fresh morning bread;
While lying down in primitive thoughts
Passing by her;
She greets you with her wet hair
Her shy laugh,
That hides the defects;
Dreams die before they rise;
On a day, like this one
1 comment:
im not sure how i feel about this one.. its soo dark and depressing!
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