The moon would like to cover it.
To see the lover's death.
Not the candle's mourning.
Moon's hate secrets when the writer comes here.
She would like to cover it.
To let the lover sleep.
She remembered the flames.
How they used to be high.
Once they even burned her, with a flickering smile.
But the writer would chase it.
(The moon would like to cover it.)
How for Vespa lover's buried,
The only candle of their peace.
~
It was enough for the candle
But the fire needs a forest.
YOU ARE READING
The broken ones ~
PoetryAll the poems not good enough to make it ~ and a lot of unfinished <3 (mostly wrote in a few minutes in the middle of the night, way less structured, poetics, with also a broken English <33 (I've always sucked at English, it's not my first language...
