now is not the time to be harshjust because the sky is dark.
when I read you I wrap your sadness on the moonand stitch stars in the dark sky,I don’t…
How much it hurts
poets write easily about lovebecause they know how it feels to hold the colours within…
You can’t wipe away the memoriesthey will cling to youtill you find a way to entangle…
when a story breaks there is no noise there is an emptiness which becomes that voidwhich…
my story is about colours which won’t blend in the palette.
to write about the night sky we need to embrace the darkness which we hide from the world.
A Poem by Nichita Stanescu
Only my life will die for me, in truth,sometime.Only the grass knows the taste…
