28.06.2015
This is the most beautiful little poem.
Because I wrote it in times of cholera and spilled blood.
With unborn children screaming in my ears.
With hungry wars just waiting to start.
This is the most beautiful little poem.
Because it finally got to you.
Because I wrote it when the world was falling apart and despite that, you were holding my hand.
This is the most beautiful little poem.
Bukowski, come drink a bottle of wine with my lover and I!
This is the most beautiful little poem, darling.
Now I am here. And you are almost near.

0 comentarii

Publicitate

Sus