Tags: lovers
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Yours is the territory of my raids. But I died, thirsty, hungry, unpublished, and you were far away, young and far away the land seemed abandoned. I'm wild, not regal, I'm powerful and violent, my mantle has obvious scars, traces of victorious struggles and losers. I don't have your skin smooth, your quiet, clean heart, your hands...
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Poetry for the other woman Yours was the territory where I made my bandits. Offesa raised the head from the top of the hill you saw the scempio that I had done in the joy of having found fresh lashes under my paws, green grass, and water and leafy trees. Silent and altered you...
