A forgotten image’s burning out my throat
And harder than gun powder makes me cry.
Long time ago I thought that I forgot,
But she won’t let me go or must be I?..
Although I pushed our boat into the sea,
I's crying while fire tongues were taking her away,
Nowadays more often when I sleep, all I can feel and see,
It’s just a face and one desire, an obsession…pray.
What kind of a suicidal masochist am I this way,
If even when I’m happy I’m in pain?
It is not love, I know it anyway,
But something like a rushing-at-my-neck at full speed train.
A ghost train
© Copyright: Александр Снитко 2, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115050100304
Свидетельство о публикации №115050100304
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