Soovin päris tõsiselt, et jumalad oleksid sind loonud poeetiliseks. skchorpion
three percent luck, forty percent skill, seven lamborghinis in the hollywood hills
heavy lashes, tears
on your neck, why do I mind?
claws drawing red lines
the moon within us
breaking its rules to keep me
thankful for the night
kindness of his hands
gently stroking my shoulders
yet I don't seek him
mittens in the snow
ghost of the bridge between us
have we settled down?
noone claims to know her
wearing his soul on her lips
not in her heart, oh
clear your mind and heart
he said, unravelling me
as I rose in love
the creeks of your blood
are mirrors, you cannot change
your faith, Earth's daughter