O creator of every story, this menu is this bump on my heart. This menu is this every moment apart from you and a year gave me any breath. I am empty
I love you cute because of you to see you alone That the healing hands of the dandruff In the light beach that prostrates to you In the Green Season of love that has any spring of you If your caress is not your flower
The last word in which the poet is in every sonnet The dignity of the broken love in your love
