I bear your secret.
Like a rug on the floor
my silence is spread,
and it's stained with my weakness.
Occasional whispers
behind the closed door,
I'm mixing the deadliest,
poisonous liquors.
And drinking.
Like everything's going to pass,
like just one more sip and it's perfectly over,
like I am the only one going to last,
like I am the only one not getting older.
I tear off the skin of my callouses.
Pain
is carefully touching the tips of my fingers.
I know where exactly the animal lingers,
I know where exactly it has always lain.
I'm going to kill.
inside
© Copyright: Далия Вейль, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114042800169
Свидетельство о публикации №114042800169
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