In the very same room
behind the doors
are my longing and your Photo
a pot of flower is my freedom
and sweaty loneliness…
My night confessions have a desert face….
the letter I wrote
is on its way to you…
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In the very same room
behind the doors
are my longing and your Photo
a pot of flower is my freedom
and sweaty loneliness…
My night confessions have a desert face….
the letter I wrote
is on its way to you…