21 september 2022
Speak My Language
Trying to count
the beautiful years, spent
in the journey of heart.
There was an uncanny
feel. The pink coldness
was not mine.
Like you ditch the
timelessness, and live in a
drop of dew to meet the sun.
The flesh. A suicidal
move to move away
from the relationship of night.
Of the tenderness,
benign death of a star.
Dust celebrates the glorious fall.
The grieving will not
stop. A charred book of bliss
terminates the vision.
14 january 2026
wiesiek
13 january 2026
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12 january 2026
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11 january 2026
Jaga
10 january 2026
wiesiek
4 january 2026
Jaga
4 january 2026
wiesiek
31 december 2025
wiesiek
30 december 2025
Jaga
27 december 2025
marka