I know that you're afraid,
You can hide, but you cannot hide.
I remember your lips’ shade.
Jesus, your soul would have died!
One gloomy January evening
I'll see you at the bonfire.
My soul will become sound-deadening,
And your ashes will be scattered by the cryer.
Are you not scared of me?
© Copyright: Назимова Юлия Вячеславовна, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122101208234
Свидетельство о публикации №122101208234
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