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Handmade1 marca 2023
Ruminating
The fire thoughts rise,
when the stinging stubble burns
on your green face.
It doesn't smell, the
forked tongue. Taste was
sweet on the skin.
A crimson twilight
narrates the glory of sun,
inviting the moon.
1 marca 2023
The fire thoughts rise,
when the stinging stubble burns
on your green face.
It doesn't smell, the
forked tongue. Taste was
sweet on the skin.
A crimson twilight
narrates the glory of sun,
inviting the moon.
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