knock-knocking
on my wooden door...

Such a strange affair
in between here and there...

If there is a promise to make
it is to the truth...

Being a gender is too tight
a dungeon...

For the sake of silence,
we have to distance ourselves...

Each figure is a silence
shrivelled...

She said that I was too sad, too damaged,
though I disagreed, ratiocinating...

In that café, I penned my poems
pinned a living butterfly of my heart...

Could you for wile cuddle this little bug,
this hug- less kitten in the cold...

The knight
armoured all in white...

He was throbbing in my arms.
Then my broken heart...

Heaven is pouring and gushing out of the...
radiances are raining from skies...