Sylwia Gorak Poem by Dead Beat Poet
Sylwia Gorak
Sylwia glides from her own eyes,
the whisp of the whisperer.
You get this I realize,
of this I am sure.
96 Friends,
we have that to share.
To think it more,
is more than I dare.
I only embrace,
the empty you leave behind.
Your glare is weakening,
what's left of my mind.
The sound of her gaze,
draped in waves of black.
The distant echo of a wish,
with the last name of Gorak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 2:46:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
