din negura, flori inchise desinfloresc,
e nestiut de doar este ori apare, dar are sare
toate se incolacesc, se innegresc.
lumina provoaca fereala, se cere adapost
soarele parca doar arde,
de melodicitate este post
e somn, se-adoarme a moarte.
My eyes are sometimes Able to see. See in a tactile way See, see, see but need to speak too. Or they do But they need their reader. They don't smile, they just stay They don't breath, just keep being. They hold, trying not to let out Not, speechless. When they can't take it They go alone, they cry unseen. Never seen. They make other eyes sad They hurt only the most beautiful eyes. Silent eyes