The others might be beautiful as well,
With quicker eyes and tender younger skin,
And stare at me, so I could even tell
Their lips are eager and their hands are keen.
It's not about anything of this
Which makes my heart beat faster as you come
And say my name as easily as breathe
And makes me melt when being in your arms.
And so I love you, all the distance through,
With every mile between us felt by heart...
As sinful as I am, I'm staying true
To you of whom I am but tiny part.
The Others
© Copyright: Мейлинг Ирина, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111090707204
Свидетельство о публикации №111090707204
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