The Pact
Through the woods I loved her.
The black nightingales sang in those six candles.
Our lips were bleeding, it was the pact.
We were almost talking, we were almost discreetly sitting on the leaves, but no ... We were lying on the brown leaves and the kisses made a mistake: the prayer.
We sleep there among laughter, possessions, joy… Seeing angels.
2019-11-26 20:47:58
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