My world is spinning around again.
My sun has just risen.
The universe favors the quiet ones—
those who say less:
—“Your coal eyes
have fallen
onto my wet soil.
You melted in my sun.”
Pain insists it is a kind of pleasure
to let everything else perish:
—“My fire is crackling
in your lungs.
You will die soon.”
Gulê
Kayıt Tarihi : 25.7.2023 17:49:00
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