Winter Tears
From my clear eyes
you squeezed the juice
and my pure soul
you perfunctorily used
With your warm lips
on my cold arms
I infected you
from unrecovered cut
Winter was cold
but not my tears
I did infect again
with my courageous fears
I thought that you will not
hurt me and my ‚fake’ art
though you entered the war
and lost from very start
[or not]
My injured body’s on the white oak
Your injured body’s on the snowy rock
Why you made me cry
My winter tears are dry
04.03.19 18:00
© Copyright: Пташка Ив, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119030408426
Свидетельство о публикации №119030408426
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