13 july 2020
Loose Threads
Your thin white skin spreads
on the front. The blue
veins have become the strings,
annexing my peninsula.
You had said, it was a
bit of stretch, to cover the
lies of a fading sun,
for a delayed penitence.
Living water will bring clouds
to fill in the lakes of grief.
One day the lilies will grow-
meet in the air, for sombody's sake.
The black moon was still
raw. All the weeds had
become snakes. I start
hating this season of mating.
28 march 2024
It Is Getting DarkSatish Verma
27 march 2024
NarcyzJaga
27 march 2024
2703wiesiek
27 march 2024
To były piękne dniabsynt
27 march 2024
Drobiazgi.Eva T.
27 march 2024
Wearing The Crown Of ThornsSatish Verma
26 march 2024
Margo5absynt
26 march 2024
2603wiesiek
26 march 2024
Good ByeSatish Verma
25 march 2024
NaturalnieJaga