From The Flames

Date 2019/4/10 2:05:30 | Topic: Poems

Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?

From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.

First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.

This article comes from World-Poems

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