Poezja

You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.
 
At dangerous arch,
blue-veined―
milk in milk has made me red.
 
The ecstasy digs out
the hidden lyric,
I would never sing.
 
Will you find any
questions, to defeat the―
intimacy of a rape?
 
A hurt here, a bruise
there, my faded shirt
covers the poems.