i'm a dry flower
sitting comfortably in a pocket of jeans
forgotten and lone
i'm a dry flower
that you call the taste of sky
blue blue i'm
and i blossom only
under your closed eyelids
i'm a dry flower
with fragile petals which are broken and don't let me to fly with whispers of wind
still a whore called physics
gave me weight
and forces me to go
down
down
down
***
I don't know what I had in mind when I decided that but I've just set three of my poems for a writing contest 😔. Now I regret it and already can imagine the look of my Polish teacher when he reads it... Actually I'm terrified. I was stupid.
