28 april 2014
CARE
The noise of a crescent
climbs wordlessly.
In the night of dew and wind, for
its native starless beams-
holding the thread of a thought, walking
through wall of disbelief. Before and after
the murder of a spark; the heart misses
a beat. Cold sweat rustling on forehead;
you bend to pick up a coin,
a fake one. Possibility of becoming rich fades soon.
You want to say nothing. Troy, Michigan, USA
Satish Verma
14 november 2025
wiesiek
13 november 2025
wiesiek
13 november 2025
Jaga
13 november 2025
ajw
13 november 2025
ajw
12 november 2025
wiesiek
11 november 2025
wiesiek
10 november 2025
wiesiek
9 november 2025
wiesiek
8 november 2025
wiesiek