9 august 2023
In My Small Fists
You seldom touch
the flames of eyes, when
I believed it was true.
Your hand burns.
Ceremonial. I
pluck the roses in
delirium. O pain-giver
there was beautiful blood.
Cloud, cloud tears
slip for thousand of years
to reach the dry lips of iris.
Why did I go blind?
After the snake bite
you turn blue, a goddess
of forgotten sins, I
will never blame you.
6 december 2023
Eva T.
6 december 2023
Satish Verma
5 december 2023
wiesiek
5 december 2023
Jaga
5 december 2023
Eva T.
5 december 2023
Satish Verma
4 december 2023
wiesiek
4 december 2023
Eva T.
4 december 2023
Jaga
4 december 2023
Satish Verma