While You Sleep

Gentle corners
on roads unwind.

In the hills
we always find.

Pale oak lips
on your ear.

Light the timber
with a tear.

Yet sandy nights
in Georgia
and rolling sheets,
drown me in the whispers
of a hunter.

The shadow is weary
of running with the feet.

--

--

--

Businessman (myika.co), MMA fighter, poetry fan.<mika@myika.co>

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Mika Yeap

Mika Yeap

Businessman (myika.co), MMA fighter, poetry fan.<mika@myika.co>

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