There’s a peasant in me
More tame
Domesticated
A puppeteer, my sweet labrinyth
From her I get my strength
Hard steps
Most prized possessions
My sorry little secrets
Crust
Fate
Meat
Made of stone
Non-attatchment
I think I’m in love pt.3
Glimpse
In those deep brown eyes, a foreign language
I found a reflection of myself
A dance of identities intertwined
Our bloodline meeting in a strangers glance
Both captive and captivated
We read our stories, our selves, together
Blocking air
Hunger
he consumed me
as his last breathe
savored my flesh
breakfast
lunch
dinner
and he loved me till my bones ached
are we not all worthy of somebody
Freegrandmaa 