Does it have to be painful?
With the faintest of smiles
With a lisp of winds in winter
I ask of you for no more than a lie.
With the babbling of mighty sorrows
With the multitude of bystanders long gone
I shoot you with flashing arrows
To keep your poise far enough from my mind.
With whiplashing freezing needles
With the goosebumps that always turn vile
I’d go straight to your door to be clueless
I’d go straight to your heart to be wise.
blackthorn blues
© Copyright: Лолита Покрасенко, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119041207835
Свидетельство о публикации №119041207835
Рецензии