29 march 2022
Clouds Were Collecting
Time
was moving without wheels.
Not a match. I
don't exist. Anonymous.
You were also not same
as I lost you.
Black walls.
You will kiss them
for a promise.
Your lips, wrapping
the wounds, like bandages.
The bruises smell
like poppies.
Not thirsty. Still
I revert to the theme of
dry lake.
Are you going to
shut the eyes of moon?
20 december 2025
Anthony DiMichele
20 december 2025
Anthony DiMichele
20 december 2025
wiesiek
19 december 2025
wiesiek
19 december 2025
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steve
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steve
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