Gentle friend,
From your hands in delighted,
But who are you?
Not the name, give me a hint,
Take all the sadness....
And if you love?
Ready for a lot,
Temper hot....
I won't hide it,
But from whom and to hide!
Damn it.....
My conscience says,
Take a pen write one,
That's just a friend,
And nothing....
Yes it hurts, no more tears,
From these dreams,
Insomnia....
And suddenly she, wife?...
Ah that then?
Trouble, trouble.
I'm so tired of looking for love,
And my blood is not young,
She'll reject me and throw me,
Into a hell of a poem...
My suffering is stupid!
Out of darkness, those rhymes about love....
Arthur die!!
And do not look for meaning in that it is difficult, to live and to be a poet!!
Last words, she would understand.... Me.
Arthur s notes
© Copyright: Валерия Павленко 2, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119030105478
Свидетельство о публикации №119030105478
Рецензии