In the still of the night
Do not whisper.
Let the tenderness go
Unveiled.
Only air getting cooler
And crispier,
Like a silk of the dressed
Newlywed.
So much love on the tip
Of your finger,
So much lie on the tip
Of your tongue.
All my body demanding to
Linger.
But my brain is demanding to
Run.
In the still of the night
Do not whisper.
Let the story unveil
by itself.
Neither one of us saint
Or sinister.
Rather - creatures with mingled
cells.
In the still of the night
© Copyright: Ольга Вярси, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124111201824
Свидетельство о публикации №124111201824
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