29 february 2024
I Ask Nothing
When a poem writes
you, I smell the
crimsoned moon.
Were you a possessed
angel, printing
desire on my palms?
Smeared on forehead,
the ash had left
the scars of kissed end.
You turn me on,
for a smile, before the honey
traces the question mark on lips.
There was no miracle
to retrieve the third eye
from the hidden love.
27 july 2024
Satish Verma
26 july 2024
wiesiek
26 july 2024
Eva T.
25 july 2024
wiesiek
25 july 2024
Satish Verma
24 july 2024
wiesiek
24 july 2024
Eva T.
24 july 2024
Satish Verma
23 july 2024
wiesiek
23 july 2024
wiesiek