I feel it at night,
The touch of a ghost
On my ignorant body,
The softeness of dew
In between my thighs,
Burning up my pale-death skin.
But it’s just an illusion,
An old dream that comes to shatter me,
Fragments of it driven in my heart.
If I dive my hand in this cavity,
I’ll touch this vivid, violent, bloody rose,
Removing the glass and turn it to my face,
Revealing Myself,
To Myself.

Préféré par...
Gregorio H. Yutaka Kazori
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