by paolo macariola
Ours is a dangerous hunger
that feeds
on the shadows that linger
within the unnamed creases of the body
carelessly
we descend into the doom
breathing in the shadows
of our bodies' unnamed creases
with nothing else in mind
but to feed
we remain breathless by sunrise
exhaling
hand in hand
we surrender back into the light
we collect whatever darkness remain in us
and guiltily tuck back
our own shadows
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment