поезия

low letters

low letters
high state
darlin’, darlin’
your eyes are red

you were high art
with fine lines
but I don’t have
that fine heart

for bitter kisses
after another fight
your silence
your cry

teardrop
that burns my soul
no pulse
no blood-flow

today
you left me
with my

low letters
in a high state
darlin’, darlin’
my eyes are red

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