Poetry – Slave Gjorgjo Dimoski

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Poetry – Slave Gjorgjo Dimoski

Up to the bare bone
Angel with face turned aside
Skin my skin
Supper (the last?)
Miss depression
Plowman


Skin my skin

skin my skin

why you kept me

all this years

did not let me

to get out

to burst

in micro-particles

to embrace

the whole space?

skin my skin

you might keep me

for not to be an apparition

but cuddled into you

to be reality

to shout to roar

to get away

from my own anger

upon you at this instant

that spilled?

AuthorSlave Gjorgjo Dimoski
2023-10-01T12:27:07+00:00 September 9th, 2023|Categories: Poetry, Literature, Blesok no. 151|Comments Off on Poetry – Slave Gjorgjo Dimoski