Too transparent, almost obscene,
I go from obscurity to mad crouds,
I recall my intentional dreams,
And the world keeps wearing me out.
You are the lightest touch of the wind,
You set me on fire with your wild nature,
You are the most romantic scene,
A peak of my lonely inventions.
Too ridiculous, almost a joke,
I go from insanity to calculation,
With your reality so bespoke,
You turn me down but you catch my attention.
Too ethereal, the coldness of yours
Is like a fairytale, a plot translated,
I walk by the river’s solemn shores,
While the past make us look outdated.
Автор публикации
Марина Чиянова
Комментарии: 28Публикации: 213Регистрация: 17-10-2021
