The only weakness

A slightly thoughtful gaze from under long lashes,
The wisdom of years revealed, yet only weariness in the eyes.
She created herself from torn fragments of pages,
From pieces, turning doubts into dust.

A light haze, a veil of the past’s trace,
In the lush curls, shimmering like frost.
On her lips, a pearly sleeping dawn,
Unspent tenderness melts and burns.

It piled up in excess, in the backyards of the soul,
Boarded up in a cross by a faceless judge.
By an executioner who once broke into life,
You let in—love, on a transient stay.

And now you yourself are both executioner and judge,
Tempered steel, with metal instead of blood.
Not to love, not to pity—sliding through life,
This principle you raised onto your pedestal.

But hope remains, on the tips of your lashes,
In the heart as a small spark, smoldering, alive.
Somewhere he exists, your own, only yours,
The one who will melt the Arctic ice with love.
             ************************
Even in the hardest armor, there is a crack,
In every stone there lies a fragile place.
My most beautiful woman,
Being strong is not always your fate.
Be a little weaker, please,
It’s so hard for me when you’re so stern.
Become my one and only weakness,
Not unyielding, like granite strong.

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