Poezja

Would you live without your
shell, one day? A chasm
was growing between us. I
was feeling very aloof.

Intruding on your private
grief, sometimes I will
see the blue veins ascending
the marbeled thighs.

Beehive and death, sets
us apart. Beyond the age
a sun sinks in crimson glory.
To bring peace on the spikes of grass.

The dreams were disappearing.
The house sits knee deep
in thoughts. I will be collecting the
knobs fallen from the doors.