Anathema Sit

the air of
your skin is Paradise 
fingers all over
my face

your words 
push the blood 
out of my heart 

towards you
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Vinson Avatar
November 29, 2016 at 9:36 AM
Wow, Bozhidar, great poem, great title. Right now, if somebody asked me, "What is poetry," I have the perfect answer for them.
Pangelov Avatar
November 29, 2016 at 10:29 PM
Oh, that's a great compliment! Thanks!
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