***
One neither sees the colour of my eyes
For being filled to top with tasteless tears
Nor hears the whispering of sleepless crying nights
For their wandering like gohsts through out years
I thought of nothing to intrude my life
Like sharpened arrow in a silent motion
To break the shield of soul in a tight
And senseless riot of a plain emotion..
Bewildered, ruined, almost torn apart
With such a blind but fair admiration..
I wish I knew that real heart is hard
To find in total human deprivation...
/November, 2022, Moscow/
/Mila O./
One neither sees the colour of my eyes..
© Copyright: Людмила Остапенко, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122112601769
Свидетельство о публикации №122112601769
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