I cannot feel. Her arrogance and silence
It`s almost ours - mutual ignorance.
It seems to be devoided of any steady sense
Love is sort of tribal innocence.
She`s gonna be betrayed
But I was always stopped
My maidenish dummy
Of crippled love.
She`s too alive, exile her woe.
Dimish the feeling of your own.
Harlot of love pampers with sorrow.
There`s nothing left than anymore.
What the residue is - just a mention
About conniving connection.
My terror is bare I remain aloof
Love`s like a scythe aloft.
And I`m impatiently queued.
And Nothing endears instead.