Not in the desert—but beneath your breast,
Coiled like a serpent, coiled to rest.
It swallowed not the sun—your heart instead,
And whispers: "Forget. You are dead to this bed."
I scream at it: "Give it back to me!"
It answers—"Too late. Can't you see?
The more you fear, the thicker I grow,
And your fire is ash—long, long ago."
Sunset... shadow of set
© Copyright: Максимильян Мельков, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126070603857
Свидетельство о публикации №126070603857
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