Poetry Is Error

Poetry is error

A hand, which

Full of sleep,

Searches the pillow

For some

Other hand

And in between us

Is vastness

Constellations away

Before us

Is a lifetime.

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s