Poezja

Again trying to forget
you, leaving behind the
loose ends in air. The descent
of Aerial begins.

A fairy― amongst the
gorgons. Like a soft poem
walking on burning coals.
I was always warning you.

Sometimes too much knowing
hurts. I want to become
ignorant of hovering dark clouds.
No light was the best option.

The stings, many of
them were closing in. The
cruel honey sticking to all
the toes. I cannot run.

Sowing the rounded seeds,
you don't get the poppies.