The magic dust on the wings of a butterfly
Is just a stain on your fingers …
Your touch left me breathless.
The splinters in my heart,
The sunflowers,
The gravity of living in a black void.
This day is endless -
Because the magic is gone when you kill a butterfly…
The magic dust on the wings..
© Copyright: Ирина Алексеева-Сафонова, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122101806790
Свидетельство о публикации №122101806790
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