English Version
gothique et romantique

The roses

Publié le 24 Jan 2013

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To gather. To offer them. To please to you. White, they hung at the edge of the way. I thought of you. This happiness to bring them to you. To imagine the glare of tone smile. To live this shared happiness. I took them over. White, they hung at the edge of the way. My fingers skimmed the tender petals. Soft as your cheek. Silky like our happy days. A bee ate sweetened, flew, frolicked. I deviated. It is in alley. I approached. White, they hung at the edge of the way. The sun rose over the small hour. The dew on grass was spread out. The paddle was born. I thought of you, to our go next. I could not come to join you without anything in hand. White, they hung at the edge of the way. My fingers seized a stem to cut it. The pink trembled, curved itself before folding. A pain, blood ran. The white petals were stained. Reds, they now carry the mark of my sacrifice. My pain is not factitious. White, they hung at the edge of the way. They are for you. I join you. To imagine the glare of tone smile. To live this shared happiness. There is nothing more good than to love you.

le sang de la nuit, la naissance de l'ange, decouvrez le dernier roman de steffan urell

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