my love
All the flowers in your reach,
die when you walk by.
No butterfly stands a chance,
no flies happy round,
All are death.
With a flame of ice,
you touch my heart.
And only one shiver later,
I turn to stone in your arms.
die when you walk by.
No butterfly stands a chance,
no flies happy round,
All are death.
With a flame of ice,
you touch my heart.
And only one shiver later,
I turn to stone in your arms.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| iemand: | Zaterdag, juni 22, 2002 17:23 |
| Hey grim reaper Mooi, vooral het einde. Keep on writing... Greetzzzz²²²²² ~*~iemand~*~ |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: grim reaper | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: klitty | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 22 juni 2002 | ||
| Thema's: | ||