It were not you
at the end of poem. Something
of moon had died.
Time has not come
to intervene in parting
of lips turning blue.
You will not change,
in offering the drink of
stunning Venus flytrap.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 10:03 PM UTC
It were not you
at the end of poem. Something
of moon had died.
Time has not come
to intervene in parting
of lips turning blue.
You will not change,
in offering the drink of
stunning Venus flytrap.