The total amors, one hundred! The pretty little hundred amors. I like the thursday, the fridays, the claps of hands rhythmically and can't tell is it raining still or no. Not and not ever, always moving. But the heats and the tiny dots and patterns in. The reds, the browns, the blues. and my own cloths surrounding, the purples and browns of me all texured.
Hundreds of little amors, I kiss at you days go by.
Hundreds of little amors, I kiss at you days go by.
