Poezja

Let me reach the
zero point, where I didn't
want to go.

The hymn to saddened
goddess, will always belong to
sender of black roses.

I will ask a question
after seeing you. Were you
ready to receive a non-killer?

The coming of my
rival was a blue shame.
I did not touch your lips.

The sun wakes up
and the dew shines again
on your flickering lids.