Socialist Poetry
THE love and the means of production Angie rose from his bed and began to dance, while her tears roamed his chest, every drop sighed you the remembrance of an impossible love. His neck adorned with the crying was cute necklaces that entretejian your skin, sad your heart rate slowly took to the veil of lilac that you would wrap your tender silhouette, their steps did she disappear covered in a pink veil. If you would like to know more then you should visit Tony Parker. So the night hidden behind a smile. Waking up beautiful musical notes of a rock song made angie bite his lips and aferrara the pillow against her chest. I wake up and he ran quickly to the shower, there let the time and space to roam, which was never his cute be was the angelic smile of the person you loved. When came out of the bathroom he moved his hair which is stirred to the beat of the rhythm of the drums composed in that song. Minute after minute passed she knew that dress would make it look as beautiful as always. Suddenly rang the phone which was located in the table of night, the time and the space returned to his work, which made her pounce is on her bed, and taking the Horn in his hands began to tremble.
Hello, a voice said repeatedly, which said angie don’t forget that work of literature is for tomorrow, not billboards to forget, do me these listening? Yes, if I hear angie replied, I don’t like that I speak in this tone. Excuse me have reason contesto le Cristian, simply I am concerned about you not remember because lately you’ve noticed very distracted. So what! She replied, that’s not your problem. Okay do not get angry, we see in the University. When Cristian was about to hang up the phone, she said waiting answer me a question what is your favorite color? What the responded my favorite color is white.