Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015 · 483
whiteness
Catherinе Feb 2015
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 2015 · 598
Passive
Catherinе Feb 2015
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

— The End —