* the room is on fire (8)
I must confess that in the post May God take you confessed I made a little couple of omissions. And of course I named that day as I will today, with the sole aim of reviving this story, and be rewarded for it.
If that chair is ... if the chair is only dirty words would come out of his mouth. Yes, dirty, filthy filthy as we sow the night on those comfy seats. Silence overwhelmed by raucous tunes of those three albums Pearl Jam who ran their own, and repeated as God commands, he witnessed the boiling breath that blinded the environment.
Too hot to have clothes. Too much music to overshadow our words. Better to raise our bodies and quiet the night with long kisses. Do you remember, right? These chelas self fulfilling its purpose. And a single cushion was enough for us both. The house alone and that thread that kept my eyes look ...
Cursed the time you remembered your ex. Damn gust of wind that brought you that memory. Damn ice cube which meant that little second reason, and killed all the bustle about to materialize.
therefore not, woman! What starts it ends. Do not eat dessert unless you are devour the cherry. Nobody calls the saint, if not to realize the miracle. Hahahaha, I can not help but laugh, woman. And is that despite that, I refrained and I realized, or at least tried to. Especially because after I did something very similar. And there I realized that even with the heat of the moment, sometimes you just can not. Sin calls, but respect someone makes a shouted even louder. True, not everyone hears that call, but nevertheless, blessed are those who do!
But rather talk about us. And end up telling you that is why today I recall that moment worth remembering. To say that this is a matter pending. What is "in'll see," on stand-by ", is taken up at some point. From what we often talk and never made concrete, do not let it blow away. Instead, let those winds enrojizados raise the room temperature, we heat up these cold winter nights. Brown skin, make your sweat to be confused with my vertigo, and Whisper in my ear, as she said Miranda, "the dirtiest things in a stylish way."
* I hate loose ends, do not you? Those things that are pending with someone. You always pursue. Sometimes they appear to disappear, but return. Better close that book, or at least dare to write new and good chapters. Will they?
If that chair is ... if the chair is only dirty words would come out of his mouth. Yes, dirty, filthy filthy as we sow the night on those comfy seats. Silence overwhelmed by raucous tunes of those three albums Pearl Jam who ran their own, and repeated as God commands, he witnessed the boiling breath that blinded the environment.
Too hot to have clothes. Too much music to overshadow our words. Better to raise our bodies and quiet the night with long kisses. Do you remember, right? These chelas self fulfilling its purpose. And a single cushion was enough for us both. The house alone and that thread that kept my eyes look ...
Cursed the time you remembered your ex. Damn gust of wind that brought you that memory. Damn ice cube which meant that little second reason, and killed all the bustle about to materialize. therefore not, woman! What starts it ends. Do not eat dessert unless you are devour the cherry. Nobody calls the saint, if not to realize the miracle. Hahahaha, I can not help but laugh, woman. And is that despite that, I refrained and I realized, or at least tried to. Especially because after I did something very similar. And there I realized that even with the heat of the moment, sometimes you just can not. Sin calls, but respect someone makes a shouted even louder. True, not everyone hears that call, but nevertheless, blessed are those who do!
But rather talk about us. And end up telling you that is why today I recall that moment worth remembering. To say that this is a matter pending. What is "in'll see," on stand-by ", is taken up at some point. From what we often talk and never made concrete, do not let it blow away. Instead, let those winds enrojizados raise the room temperature, we heat up these cold winter nights. Brown skin, make your sweat to be confused with my vertigo, and Whisper in my ear, as she said Miranda, "the dirtiest things in a stylish way."
* I hate loose ends, do not you? Those things that are pending with someone. You always pursue. Sometimes they appear to disappear, but return. Better close that book, or at least dare to write new and good chapters. Will they?
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