автор: wednesday

I kissed a gypsy boy.
He kissed me
Because he was amazed -
My skin was white.

Like foreigners,
Confused with their strangeness
They oddly copulated,
His skin and mine.

Whiteness reached its ecstasy
In harmony,
Contrasted by the colours’ copulation.
He stayed amazed,
The gypsy boy.

My stranger
Who’d ever longed to find a way into my mystery.
He did
Because he craved to.

His passion’d used to last for ever.
The aim was faced with courage.
Heart the Warrior,
Was fallen in and followed,
For it’d been born his sacrifice.

And it was,
Abolished into ashes by my passion.
I’d never wanted to select the meaning of the mystery.
Yet I was made to
By my master.

My passion’d used to last for ever.
I tried to hide it
As innocent as patient.
And it pretended,
For had been born my slave.

It never was -
My passion was my master.
I’d never thought to clash into the very soul of mystery.
Now I apologize
For I was led to by my master.


© author: gallia g.

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