Untitled No.1 Poem by CristiAna Popescu

I bleed dust as
the bird guarding my soul
turned into
stone.
Turned into stone as
she saw stars who died
and remained listless,
saw suns ebbing and
waited the Moon
to rise.
........................................................
I bleed dust by season of
the stony bird.
I bleed dust as the
sad ones, as the
dead ones.
........................................................
I bleed dust and I can't remember
when I died
and why.