THE APPLE AND THE ROSE.

I

She passed by dressed in apple,

brightly redlygreen and cold,

that sky was raining roses adorned with thorns,

wearing a Longly dress,

colored as those apples with a purple scarf,

accepting defiances,

trapped by a hand,

in the prison of my fingers,

was hanged a rose,

without colors and sad,

embarrassed, dying, flying crossing the wind,

felt on my palm… drowned,

silent cry of the anguish,

before my eyes…she bled,

without the red of her blood,

Cried…the trapped rose,

desperate tears and dry,

between petals quiet,

slip away the divided light,

crossing the prism of your soul,

I rolled over, on the yellow one,

falling…in your open arms,

filled with warmth and longing.

Lulled by your voice,

singing a sweetly song.

Sixty stars without sky,

flying over perforated seas,

by many swordfish quite.

Hearts of roses and apples,

the thieves of my calms,

lates of nervously rains,

full of soullessly years,

beautiful trio of breasts,

of millions of children starved ,

blacks, yellows and whites, hanging from your nipples,

as a beautiful shewolf,

of a Romulus and a two Remos,

he squeezed your hand,

intrigues of the dummy awake,

without complex ,

you opened the mailbox of my soul,

again the yellow card, the same.

Scented storms, the Muse was stopped by the sea,

on wet and whitely heels,

buried in the sand with hundreds crabs,

the apple wet , covered with a blanket of roses,

no proposals, no forgiveness,

no strings attached, love,

fall again in the original sin,

with no learning by the times,

I give you the roses with no thorns,

give me your temptations with no bites,

the relief of the turtles.