…a quiet quill in translation deliberately hanging in air
whispering intimacy in tempo unanchored in gravity
between every heartbeat to hush tracing the vowels
like a metronome bleeding softly on a paper
with no punctuation, but a pulse
of the ink’s intoxication, carved on a tree
Create an account
Welcome! Register for an account
A password will be e-mailed to you.
Password recovery
Recover your password
A password will be e-mailed to you.
Bookmark post




