11 may 2023
In My Play
It were not you
at the end of poem. Something
of moon had died.
Time has not come
to intervene in parting
of lips turning blue.
You will not change,
in offering the drink of
stunning Venus flytrap.
11 may 2023
It were not you
at the end of poem. Something
of moon had died.
Time has not come
to intervene in parting
of lips turning blue.
You will not change,
in offering the drink of
stunning Venus flytrap.
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