I see art
dripping down
her lips
when she speaks
herself
to the moon.
BINABASA MO ANG
Pareidolia
PoetryMy 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.
lxviii
I see art
dripping down
her lips
when she speaks
herself
to the moon.
