My nightmares cure and the sun was coming out of my skin at night

Hold your hands, I am a determined lover of my dreams and realities to be slaughtered beyond what I dreamed of: I am a sun-drenched man hidden in the ground of love, I am a forgotten pancake on the market.

Your journey is your life.
Your sad songs.
He is a hidden channel in my prayer that I read and strike every time my poems hurt, and you are the most obvious person in the scriptures below.

I do not have a single word for unknown entreaties: every time I sweep all the pain under the carpet, dust fills my mind with the way I curse the evil demon of vengeance.

I am in the barn.
I am an angry star in love and a full moon in the constellation.
My jacket is blue, and my dreams are hidden in my district: I am probably the only dreamer in the world, who challenges me with my hiding in the clear words of dreams that penetrate the seeds.

I collected the leaves while I was on the lobola chest.

I disappeared before it was time.

Since it was love, I did not know how to fall in love.

I am the most beautiful of the seasons, my father's only son.

As it gets worse, I have nightmares. At night the sun rises in my skin, the sun rises in my soul, the stars tremble, a helpless man loyal to his Lord.

Manifesto of your life.

My victory is hidden in crazy words.
In the bed of dreams, those dense corridors, slaves of burning love without fire.
Love is a breakthrough, every word that can be said is a law of the heart crushed in the mine of the beloved in the eyes of the beloved.

All the emotions that go unnoticed, but come and fall asleep, the soul of love. The heart is bent, sometimes lifting the gourd and the words smoking in the heart forest.

In a storm.

Impatient sighs.
It is unintentional love and love associated with sadness. In love, the desire of the heart leads to floods, and the one who executes judgment is the supreme Creator.

Craving like picnics.
No one from the corner of the log. If it is a memorandum you become a slave to love, it is as if you are the head of the house from which you were evicted, and every moment you record day and night away from your lover.

Blue is your secret outfit.
Your law that you put in writing is a burning song. You look down every time you think of something you love and you always don't see it, a person is born, you become a poet at the end of life.

Your dear wife.
It is the sound of the roar of the heavens, and every inch of love-loving earth that is faithful to its roots, the whole frame of which one may fall.

Longing is something you will not waste.
The yard of love you can never do is sometimes heaven, where the eyes of your loved one you know from afar, you flee the shadow of life that turned into hell, that long stretch of bridge. from your past to the day you betrayed a loss, every character of your loss, apart from your disappearance.

The poems are yours, as you can meet, your smoky peace and beautiful halo.
The cry of the ruling moon at night.
You are lost in the star map, in the happiness you fell for, you still miss couples and sunshine, if it is destruction, life is love Every night and in your dark eyes you listen to the words of your lover, the angel of love.

Not enough.
That unattainable lover was overcome by your pride.

Its altar is in its place, but all that is unknown is in the eyes of God, whose journey and purpose are hidden.

Reported ukde remaining.
How much you respect loneliness in the universe.