6 december 2021
Half-Lights
With silver spoon, I
cannot eat your words―
selling my poverty.
Another pain comes,
when you walk barefoot
in hot sun, to feel the old burns.
Black moon, and red
eyes, in white nights.
These were my poems.
Your body comes in
between my blues
and trembling morrows.
31 october 2025
wiesiek
31 october 2025
Jaga
30 october 2025
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29 october 2025
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28 october 2025
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25 october 2025
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24 october 2025
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23 october 2025
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23 october 2025
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22 october 2025
Jaga