AL0 Marie
11.2.2024
Another dip in the moss coloured ink
To write her a poem, not too innocent,
For a love second-most ambivalent.
A dance with the reaper- of only a little death,
Tracing her body of verses in between breaths.
Then be swept away, perchance-
by her tears, or maybe by mine.
Is it just so, a low and shameless wish of mine?