I recognized you by your direct gaze, by your half-smile.
The strict gait and controlled manners are totally your style.
In an instant, fate cast its final cue,
As you straightened the knife lying askew.
I imagined the pain, silent and curt,
As you brushed off the cuff of your spotless white shirt.
Three seconds suffice to unmask a true hunter,
Yet my sixth sense screams of a fatal blunder.
The vein beneath my skin trembles,
Every tension in my vertebrae drags my soul into shambles.
Sleepless nights will pull me to their clutch,
Trapped in loops of our first touch.
Fully aware that I am doomed to fall once more into this trap of self-flagellation,
I find that a knife for a medium-rare steak is my single salvation.
And stabbing you right here, my sexisting needs some colors
I want to stop this game before the starting pistol fires
6th sense
© Copyright: Аксинья Шустер, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125020902594
Свидетельство о публикации №125020902594
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