An open sore of hollow-hearted love
Like dirty spot confutes your empty words.
So, I’m to conjure out of my cove
And to dismiss lie ghosts that soil my worlds!
For you, my congener of worthless hope,
There is a way, an overgrown path:
To open sky-curtains pull the rope,
This thin light-silver rope which bound us.
And being burnt to ashes we’ll be free –
Earth-skies agreement knows the reason why.
Black sinful midnight preys on memory
And makes me doubt to live on or to die…
An Open Sore...
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012402051
Свидетельство о публикации №125012402051
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