Like a play of Anna Karenina,
Gone in a moment.
Quietly, playing games with yourself in perfect precision.
Softly, I slip into a stupor through the moments of my life.
Like frozen crystal,
Shattering the facts.
A festival of badly played notes.
An emptiness — a mystery, or an embrace.
The closeness of waves strikes hard at wounds,
reeking of tar.
To stay is to betray your soul, selling it to the devil.
You don’t live — you imprison yourself in concrete.
Waking in the night to the snore of a savage nightmare.
Dinner is served — a stale piece stuck in the throat.
Bitter from all this pompous perfection.
The fake of success erodes you piece by piece.
A heart of stone, darker than night.
Do you love such a life?
…
I think — not really.
A Play
© Copyright: Джулия Мамедова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126032102675
Свидетельство о публикации №126032102675
Рецензии