8 november 2021
From The Flames
Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?
From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.
First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.
3 february 2025
Pierwsze opalankoajw
2 february 2025
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2 february 2025
Irminaajw
31 january 2025
3101wiesiek
30 january 2025
Nawet w styczniu jest wiosnaJaga
29 january 2025
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29 january 2025
2901wiesiek
28 january 2025
2801wiesiek
27 january 2025
W styczniu i nie dziwi nicJaga
27 january 2025
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