25 july 2020
What Next
Between the swaying palms,
moon was moving
in armada.
Why did you come
late, to whisper, of the
explosive explicit?
But for a lone
cry, I would not
take you.
The jewels were mine.
You had stolen
from my waistband.
It substracts the
stings from my
hobbling gait.
25 november 2024
AfrykankaTeresa Tomys
25 november 2024
2511wiesiek
25 november 2024
0019absynt
25 november 2024
Pod skrzydłamiJaga
24 november 2024
0018absynt
24 november 2024
0017absynt
24 november 2024
0016absynt
24 november 2024
0015absynt
24 november 2024
2411wiesiek
23 november 2024
0012absynt