Boys Love Boys
I remember a melody composed some time ago, which has no lyrics, I need to get it out, my head is full of feelings, sensations, and Will.
I get up again, walk over to the armchair again, next to her on the study table, open the drawer, and pull out a notebook. My old notebook of compositions and notes, I take a pen and sit on the bed. When I think about the beginning of everything, I don't remember exactly how, or in what period, it started. I take the notebook and write:
“I don't know when it started,
When you came into my life,
I still can't figure it out,"