Allotropic modification

My lungs are one large, deflated balloon,

sitting somewhere in the lost chair.

I grew  branchiae instead.

 

You perfectly fit to this porous body,

viscous in masculine, bogus, warm-heartedness.

 

My shoulders carry dark cloud,

exercising lifting of heavy thoughts.

 

I know I’m cute, but can’t offer you a smile.

Maybe an open umbrella?

 

You are amorphously

voiceless, unbroken:

chameleon of the day.

 

Maja S. Todorovic

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