5 czerwca 2019
Sheared Off
How much you were honest
with you?
The poems had singed
the eyebrows. I am filled
with salt.
Would you know what was
missing between the lines?
Afterlife will not bother me.
My image and me
will not superimpose.
An apology for extradition
of my agony. Trapped, my
mirror has broken. I
will tear off the moon
from the window, when the room
is dark.
18 marca 2026
wiesiek
18 marca 2026
violetta
17 marca 2026
wiesiek
17 marca 2026
sam53
16 marca 2026
Jaga
16 marca 2026
wiesiek
16 marca 2026
Jaga
15 marca 2026
wiesiek
15 marca 2026
sam53
15 marca 2026
absynt