STIGMATA - Political Musings of Unrequited Love by Ruxandra Duca - HTML preview

Loveless

My reality

from fabric of molten nightmares

is sown ,

thread by thread,

button by button

by the hands of the dead

soul.

Where I go,

I leave cobwebs,

when I leave,

it rains

ice,

fire,

hatred.

I don't know

the smell of love.

Unwelcome.

Forgotten.

Unloved.

How could my thoughts

shape reality?

Do you think

my ongoing war

will bring the demise of people?

I don't know

the smell of love,

the taste of love,

I don't know...