12 september 2021
Repeating Again
Not a single word was
written today, watching
the masks being perfected.
A nosedive, of what
I built without mercury,
without threads.
Sitting on a black
stone, wishing moon a
mist bath of absolute.
It again aches, my
roving heart, trying to
knit the harmony in black and white.
13 may 2025
Eva T.
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