4 lutego 2024
Searching Peace
Unravished the
black moon was down
but not out.
I am being watched.
How the poem
prints itself on heart.
Curled up with
flower thoughts, staring
aimlessly in black void.
Wanted a brutally
honest truth, moon struck
but ready to give blond.
Who was desireless
being a saint. Paradox
always wins.