her stars
were murdered
under her skin,
inside her head
yet she was
the moon,
drunk in a rainfall,
unafraid of the
dark alone
and that
I love her more than she loved the night
BINABASA MO ANG
Pareidolia
PoesíaMy wild flower I know you have thousands of thorns, but still I see your face in every petal and I love to plant you between the blank pages of my book. I'll keep you forever even you're not fragrant anymore.
