Prisoner of love

The odor cries inside the bud,
When the dusk comes in
Happy days of spring vanish;
Then I become a prisoner of love;
The sweat flows in between
The bountiful surface of tits
When the lust goes out;
Then I become a beggar of loveĀ
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
Like 0 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com
You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.