You hold my body tightly. Strong, but gentle grip. I move my fingers slightly Tracing your curved lip, Feeling the rough stubble
By Polina Papazova4 years ago in Poets
What defines confinement? Is it the four bare walls Trapping you inside them Behind closed metal doors . Is it judges sentence
By Polina Papazova5 years ago in Poets
Long time ago, by the fire, My mom told a story to me. She asked me to listen closely, As such story I didn’t for myself see.
Why the need to call me baby? All these diminutive names Seem to me a bit degrading, We ve barely talked And you’re already making claims.
What’s this? It’s nothing What’s that? It’s nothing too And what’s inside it? empty? No, for nothingness is full
i saw the white stone corpse of underwater trees as i was slowly drifting by observed their untimely death and mourned their fleating beauty
My skin on fire, where our bodies met My heart hurts, with desire My body full of passion, Tonight I am not thinking with my head.
Dear insomnia, . I am sorry That you’ve never known the pleasure Of full 8 hour sleep. A nap a midst your leisure.
I am feeling blue. Which shade of blue is still unknown It changes every minute, hour or day Until it hits, the colour is not shown
