This deathly silence, a boundless and sharp kiss –
Like heavy sigh reduced to white-snow sound;
Profound inclination that we miss,
Dramatic proof of feelings never found.
Life-torture sells temptations of the past –
Me, trustful, took a few, romantic stuff;
I’ve read the first page, I’ve re-write the last;
I’ve torn all of them to hear my sins laugh.
The utmost pleasure poisons my tired mind –
Amazing likeness of your native heart,
And slow-wind-tenderness, and all you hide
Within your hugging which my life has start…
This Deathly Silence...
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012601390
Свидетельство о публикации №125012601390
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