A Sight In Her Comb Will Be Her Snippet.

A sight in her comb will be her snippet.

Her saree formed lies lenses of loon lensed light.

Lie becomes a moon and is judged with the veracity of vocass.

Vocass means lie in her comb.

A lie in her comb means honey teeth.

A die in her sweet means like of her loom.

The essence in her vanilla body stayed sparse in hooting don't names.

A moon in the sight of her become was the light of her soil.

Her light of her.

Hers therefore only.

Hers night and the snake.

Her chef bane.

Her night chef.

She is cooler than ever.

Hers poet only.

Hers love.

Her love.

Her life.

Her.

Sunidhi

A light sparse on the sheets.

A light ferret.

A mouth high.

A light-high.

A gargle.

A lot unsound.

A light works of the neep.

A night loved of her moon.

Her moon high.

Her edge sister.

Her lie sister.

Her mouths lie eckle.

A lie in which she shares is a mouth-love burn.

A love of his gone is a come.

A light of his love.

His.

Sunidhi

All poems are subject to copyright. There will be poet on category but level. Also, don't cut paste a poem of your like. I would like credits to my name. This is a given. It's written so as to love and share with my name credits. This will be a book in thesis. Please credit.A given sloem. We are got-loving crazy. A poetry level. Hers. Therefore? Lie. A moon. Her ink. Her staple. Hers church therefore. Hers John Wayne. Hers ticket furror. He's baby car. He's baby crazy. He wants to write. Write well in her analog. Her monologue. Her credit lie.An petty thing about holding an uptight conversation is that we need to recognize an author. We can't really equate, terrific with nice. Nice with noon. I like writing things. I like holding people. A lesson in jeopardy would be oraganizing shelf. A position to speak from is saying wrongity makes up right. A nice ruse would be playing with tactics. If agreement means compilance. That means a lie means two. How is her work yours? It's steal. It's a nice time to apologize and back off. How is stealing equal to work? A work is nice when you reserve a position of mindset to a lover one. A lover one would mean tenderness. A nice-one would mean a night holding. Nights would mean love. Her credits are impending necessary to the boons of our rice and nice to our face. If necessary, bitch. If hold, keep. If yours, keep it on your own. Keep. Work. Work equals work. Work equals face value minus deep ink-sect.A lie-is that of her keep that we should be right of act to multiply a work based on credit. If credit seems different. It is. It's so often forgotten. It's lie. You need to be aware of a situation and credit the necessary people to honest situations. He was there. He was nice. He left. What remains? Nice. What solves? Sight. What takes? English? Or poet? Before you take credits of our lies, we should credit. This is necessary as it lays. An Ias officer is who she should become. A thing taken is a thing refused, a might taken is a will. She would be counting sadness as they were nice hedges in the moon. A nice-hedge to the count of a living matter. A matter in compliance in fact is courage compiled. She is given credits to delve in her a love greater than it is. She is. She is her muse wasting time on bakery and her poet was a thing a lie. A ruler is great example of his night. She knows no leap or courage. A given light-is courage. A mounting to the honest means of her soil. He cried. He leapt. He dissolves. He writes over you an honest review. A naxalite is a problem of her own. A night-till she wrote out dais. A seeking in which she was nill. She knew a lie and was a thing of her own. Her melting voice was the thing of her secret. He knew ages ago to fuel wine. He knew before a lady and a bug. She knew it too. They were a happy family. A certificate of congratulations. A lie still of the two and the pan-ink wise. She knew her. She knew not. She knew hers. She was a notice. She knew all. She was everything. She writes and is her. A light in the mouth of heaven was a lie-thinker. A lie-was a lie-in great honest deep. A think-toll. A diamond. She knew. She was her. She knew it to be her table. Her body was her table. She knew edges. She took her height. And was mad adversity. A love in her poem was formed love minus hers. He was writing till she knew her. She knew herself. She bathed and wrote. Life embodied her. Music made her. Muse lones her of itself and tweets and was the night. She was suicide. She was drops in the medicine. A lie in her zhor. A lie in her suddle. She was. She was night. She was ocean. She was a deep soul. Her. Poetry. Her light be foretold. Her light be shining. Poetry. Love. Light and hapiness . Credit also underlies to the fact that it would be meaning a love and long of the cute ect is she. She knew roses and I knew her. I don't take law into my hands of heaven. She took law to burn and I abided. She was law. I am her. I was a published author. She knows her not. She knows me still. She knew it. Credited. Accomplished. Girl.

Sunidhi

She was her. school of thought science is that we write leaps of pros and she thought of writing them down. We knew might to steps of her poetry till kisses go gone out of night. She was her prowess. He was lie. He was the night of her eck-right. He was love. He was night. He jelled well. He was the ink-brink of the skin. We are night doers. We knew not lays in the king of Earth. We knew inventions to be sparse and her night to doomed. She makes pure love out of her hands. She sculptures us like the mighty God. She will take seat in the backers. He will right hoots in the lashes. He was her dua. He was her night. Dubbey. She pictures me a black serpent. She is God of audacity. She will make us all back to her knight-edge. She will fair out love. She knows not love but great. She knew stubborn-ill inks. She was nice. She crates reality. She is nice-stubborn ink. She is a nice poet. She was her sump. She knew not her. She knows her. She was putta, the Potter. I write like the shows of a magazine book.

Sunidhi

A love hitch.

A move bitch.

An uncle of sleep-dime.

A sleep-story.

A story-house.

A moon-love in her bakery.

A love to serve and set herself in.

A thought of her check room.

Her haste.

Her lie.

Her shape.

Her moon.

Her move.

Her eat

Her move.

Her lie.

Her dinth.

A haste-slow poem.

Sunidhi

A needing to my lie.

A kneading to my heaven.

A loves of our kingdom so great.

A mine of his leap.

His mouth in his shine.

A shine in his eyes.

A love in his great.

A great of our own.

A nice ruse of suck love out of me girl.

An eighteen year old kiss.

A love was nice when we knew poetry and night to be her ink.

Her life was a hostage.

He was nice to the selling-ink.

She was shining-like a noon of his.

He was nit nable.

He was lie.

Intense is full.

Intense is honest.

An ink.

A lie.

A thought.

He thought.

He was shining-life.

He was noon-ish kingdom.

A nevie of cold stump-hole.

A crazy-love cosmonaut.

A crazy, crazy, crazy love uphills.

He was lie. He was her.

He was rich. He was her noon.

He was still.

He was ice.

He was not her.

We ate her picnic food.

And I fancy her.

A shin in her moon.

A shy if her slope was nice.

He was earth-hole.

He was nice.

Sunidhi