I awake, and there she is again, we are standing face to face, what is it that she has to gain? Bugging me at a fast pace.
By Sara Chwialkowska3 years ago in Poets
He leaves the house undercover, with dark red lipstick on his lips, but don’t mistake him for a lover; from his sharp, yellow teeth, blood drips.
I wander the field like I’m famous, the crowded grass like a jungle, wild, the green carpet, oh what greatness, grasshoppers’ applause far from mild.