Not knowing, where the universe begins
Or how far, the darkness extends
Can one know, where it actually ends

I wish
her scars were on my heart
and not on her arms.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

it is autumn.
you are golden;
you were golden
in summer
too.

never plant more
on a less


meaning sleeps
in every chest