It’s all that I have for today’s expression.
Even the sky gets unchangeable boring face.
The landscape is absence of any passion:
Like in the space.
Nothing reminds of the life. A stranger,
Mixed with a colour of snow, of empty soul,
Vanishes. Further’s obscure nature.
Maybe, a black hole.
Earlier, feelings were fresh or, better,
At least, they existed. Open your mouth again –
The words would be swallowed by something, greater
In speech, than you can.
Nature morte
© Copyright: Матвей Дягилев, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118032005481
Свидетельство о публикации №118032005481
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