Forgive
me this courage
do
not have sadness in the eyes.
I
am a woman.
And
good for me
So
from living - on swords.
Going
on the edges,
like
on herbs,
Flooding
in black nights
And
swing away from you
Strange
eyes,
strange
eyes.
And
then cry like a child
Chopping
his cheek on his hands
The
whisper is simple and innocent:
"Why
do you like me ..."
And
again to think before a wound
And
like to regret it
Because
you are my deepest wound.
Yes
- that I love ...
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