1 february 2022
Come Whitely
Moon injured―
after reaching climax.
At the death of a poem
nobody was ready to climb the pyre.
A collapsed river was
sleeping in your eyes. I will
come and wake up the sun.
Now I am melting.
Some troubling signs were there.
You were becoming vulnerable,
if the rock cried. And you
wanted to die in my arms.
O brute, cold-blooded
murderer, the shadow of the comet
was lengthening. I don't
want any roses for funeral.
A self-image had the last laugh.
28 november 2024
IkarJaga
28 november 2024
2811wiesiek
28 november 2024
0025absynt
28 november 2024
0024absynt
28 november 2024
bo jak wtedy jest nas wszędzieEva T.
27 november 2024
0023absynt
27 november 2024
0022absynt
27 november 2024
Jedno pióro jest ptakiemEva T.
27 november 2024
Mgła ustępujeJaga
27 november 2024
Camouflage.Eva T.