Over your breasts of motionless current,

of certain houses, waters like eyelids and eyes

nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners

into the raucous baskets wher九九藏書e they accumulate,

Nights with bright spindles,

send into exile

of mangled silver, alone with a tip

divided, materialread.99csw.com, nothing

over your legs of firmness and water,

I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable

can capture your waist in my hands

over the permanence and therｅad•９９ｃｓw•ｃｏm pride

surrounding the worn chairs, wearing out doors.

when my heart lifts its oaks

and a stroke of water, with remnants of the sea,

of the crowns,

human blood, you九*九*藏*書r kisses

neats on the silences that wait for you

but voice, nothing but

towards your unbreakable thread of snow.

in a wasteland of thorns

ransomed

naked every day.

Neither the heart cut by a piece of glass

of your naked hair

of your breast of snow.

thrown

Nocturnal sugar, spirit

I want to be, my love, now that the tears are