I remember
I remember the sound of the drums, of the deaf echo. Involving us on wild pulsations. I...
The dead tears of your body
Eyes lost without being able to hide this face which could not be considering. Post...
The country of Alice.
As a caramel flaring odor escaping from an oven which heated too much. Honey and the...
Your lips soft and were sweetened
The door was closed again by scraping the ground. Letting filter the lighting sun this...
I hold you the hand
I hold you the hand, I do not want to run. You hold me the hand, you do not want to...
The tram
Turn the horse-gear of the days and weeks stretching the months and the years in the...
Four minutes zero two
The sound of a piano, sad and dark notes running on the web melody. Drawn Up to equip...
The call of the last kiss
There is an image which returns unceasingly as a door which is not able to be closed...
Timidity
A hesitation, a doubt, a reserve. Before entering, to see and be seen. A hand which...
My dreams fled
My dreams fled. Do not rove any more in the middle of my nights. Leaving a diffuse trace...
J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
