Who knows to write or not to write?
This feeling going from inside.
My mind became a storm of thoughts,
Your face and smell: my evil ghosts
This silent world is killing me
And swallow endless sky and sea.
Black liquid ink fills up my heart
I write and beating comes so hard
Through time, through miles,
Unchanged and keen
My spirit goes to touch your skin…
Who knows...
© Copyright: Дмитрий Понятный, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116091000881
Свидетельство о публикации №116091000881
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