Ioana-Raluca Raducanu

Thus in thy perfectionth Love'fst hist saife haventh findt

Wearing my body around comfortably worn out functional doll I can only let go when I'm moderately irrefutably sick or tired.

In the morning. Your back to the sun.

I am glad you died. Now I can stop missing you Since you're never coming back.

Is snake-like You feel cold at first Then, as you approach the middle Your middle Grows out of you In warmth And slowly it slips Your mind Skating on thin ice It cracks – your skin: Is

Thank God that when I gave you my heart You didn\'t take it. I would have been dead by now!

If life were a poem It should be named pain

Life is not tragic or happy or sad or funny it just is And that\'s the tragedy.

Thank God that when I gave you my heart It was only metaphorically Otherwise, now i really would be dead

Oh World, How the moon lit upon thy darkness Sweetens thy sharp edges!

And when I die Cover my death smell With scents of flowers

I’ve grown like a habit on your back Like the habit of sitting on a chair or drinking water from a glass. You may kick me at any time but not without discomfort.

His knees bent to the ground, Adam. God reconsiders. Let\'s give it another try.

In the garden of Eden. God is testing his creation. Failed again.