6 february 2024
Where Do The Sprits Go?
Disappointed.
I look at my hands to
read your destiny.
I fall to kiss the
moon dust. You were
my desire in sleep.
The spirit hovers
like the golden eagle
to rest the talons.
I stop the game.
Some cards had remained
undealt. I win, I lose.
You were not the
angel. You were not the mortal.
Where do I put my relief?
24 november 2024
0018absynt
24 november 2024
0017absynt
24 november 2024
0016absynt
24 november 2024
0015absynt
24 november 2024
2411wiesiek
23 november 2024
0012absynt
22 november 2024
22.11wiesiek
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Pod miękkim śniegiemJaga
22 november 2024
Liście drzew w czerwonychEva T.
21 november 2024
21.11wiesiek