There is no heart-I am sure
I forgot the beatings , all pulsing.
passion , kisses are dusty history.
in my mind I am old, bones - rusty.
if I could I would take the webs from the body
I would dance very freely as gypsies.
from the shelf I would take whisky, vodka
to behave at last really badly.
is there use to look at somebody?
better sit in the deepest ,dark burrow
and reread something dull, well-forgotten
having dreams ..of bright , tender feelings....
There is no heart
© Copyright: Екатерина Передереева, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120101509045
Свидетельство о публикации №120101509045
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