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She came silently ...
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She came silently took off his cloak, lay bare.
He took off his tie, pants left on itself and lay a long time.
And I thought. About his mother, the stars of the Milky Way,
About the countries where he was and where he was not a strange constellation,
Who I saw in the night, but she did not say.
About the world, which was not, like,
But I see his vassal somewhere in August and the month of the last century.
He thought that she was too fragile, to the point,
With a thin needle her delicate porcelain crypt destroyed.
Not because of him. And just a matter,
What words he can break the world its inner,
He was too sensitive, unpredictable,
Just pin podkolesh it - and immediately knitting,
All right spokes. No. After the hook. With the awareness of beauty.
He lay in silence. And she said nothing in response, osyazaya inherent in it.
Not viscous. This is not a mulled wine. Not liquor, or even wax. A vibration.
His hand touched the brush dancing lips. And now
They started dancing. No bodies, no losses are not podsmyslov not understand dreams,
And just people. With their dreams, soul, for two, to order, at the limit,
With boundaries dirty again watercolor, washed out.
Nesotkanny turned beige. As a wedding captured.
Come on, both in the shower to wash off harmful mania.
She came silently took off his cloak, lay bare.
He took off his tie, pants left on itself and lay a long time.
And I thought. About his mother, the stars of the Milky Way,
About the countries where he was and where he was not a strange constellation,
Who I saw in the night, but she did not say.
About the world, which was not, like,
But I see his vassal somewhere in August and the month of the last century.
He thought that she was too fragile, to the point,
With a thin needle her delicate porcelain crypt destroyed.
Not because of him. And just a matter,
What words he can break the world its inner,
He was too sensitive, unpredictable,
Just pin podkolesh it - and immediately knitting,
All right spokes. No. After the hook. With the awareness of beauty.
He lay in silence. And she said nothing in response, osyazaya inherent in it.
Not viscous. This is not a mulled wine. Not liquor, or even wax. A vibration.
His hand touched the brush dancing lips. And now
They started dancing. No bodies, no losses are not podsmyslov not understand dreams,
And just people. With their dreams, soul, for two, to order, at the limit,
With boundaries dirty again watercolor, washed out.
Nesotkanny turned beige. As a wedding captured.
Come on, both in the shower to wash off harmful mania.
