Memory is s worship,
And your feel is alabaster .
Tonight the sky bleed
The past in the sore,
This is how we make love.
Buttercup kisses,
Your lingering touch
And missionary art of their curves
Dripping wet for you.
Blood boils with his.....—
Her lips carves you,
Shadow tide is then born
That is tasted by walls and room.
— ending is entitled still the same,
Question remains lame
"Girl! Who are you? "
Often reality cover
In mask of silence
When an innocent soul
Evoke her indelible memories
And then face internal
Domestic violence......
-misskanishka
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