The deeppest winds of a sense
like the gentle stars
falling through your heart.
I will come to your place,
make some cherry-tarts,
make some calm in blood.
And the hottest tea of the sun
for the acute mind.
19.02.2015
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
The oceans of snowdrifts
have laid at his porch
for a sleep.
He gives them a blanket
made from his kidness's feathears.
He believes
inside them
must be hidden somebody's heart.
18.02.2015
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC