3 lutego 2021
Undraped Souls
Inexplicable.
I run my own life, when
epicenter moves to periphery.
A drink of hemlock
from your purple― spotted eyes.
You want to squeeze the blue sky
in your chest.
Was I violating your
sanctum sanctorum, hidden
deep in crevices of ancient love?
Your voice was cracking up
hoarse, as I listened
in silence, concealing my
poem not to explode.
Wings become the tongue
flying off, like possessed
celebration of loosing
the glaze and becoming a naked mammal.
A cold-blooded laugh!
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