9 sierpnia 2023
In My Small Fists
You seldom touch
the flames of eyes, when
I believed it was true.
Your hand burns.
Ceremonial. I
pluck the roses in
delirium. O pain-giver
there was beautiful blood.
Cloud, cloud tears
slip for thousand of years
to reach the dry lips of iris.
Why did I go blind?
After the snake bite
you turn blue, a goddess
of forgotten sins, I
will never blame you.
24 maja 2025
violetta
24 maja 2025
dobrosław77
24 maja 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
23 maja 2025
wiesiek
23 maja 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
22 maja 2025
wiesiek
22 maja 2025
ajw
21 maja 2025
violetta
21 maja 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
21 maja 2025
wiesiek