His flight landed on my railway station
His grave painted itself in rainbow colours to make me smile
His blood rushed to his heart and waked it up when i came to his arms
The moon waited for the sun in the orange dusk of hues
The axe started to blush and the trees started to kiss the axe themselves when he loved me on those nights
The moon started to glow less the way he described my eyes to her
And they say he isn't meant for me
YOU ARE READING
Burning water
Poesíaa set of poetry oozing out of my hands. stories that feel like moon to your stars and dream that burn your skin like the sun. Can water burn you? Yes when its splashing comd yet boiling hot when you can see death kissing your life. some minimal dra...
