Erotic about Zygmunt Vasa / ClaudiaRogowicz

The Erotic About Sigmund Vase

My skies open to the rays and the heart,
the pigeons are caught on the harpsine,
butterflies hide in roses.

Art is art erstwhile it's true

I'm holding his hand,
narrow,
long,
pale,
The veins go into the river.

My lips where his darkest thoughts are puzzling,
And his where my most beautiful.
I'm radiance and rainbow.

Only eternity is suffering.