Not the Right Vibrations

Park. Flowerbed. A glance — a shot through the chest.
The music's on beat, yet my heart's in unrest.
"You have the grace of a blade!" — so you said.
I'm not the one. You're not the one. All's false.

Tracked me down? A shadow at my door?
You call me to the platform, biting with cold.
"Geolocation" — a code of iron, yes,
But the soul's not online. Never, and bold.

Frost. Window. A bonfire of white roses.
Warmth for a moment. Then vastness unfolds.
Coffee? Yes. But it's not for you —
My rhythm's my own. My fate is true.

Yellow acacia — a gift of the spring,
I gave it water — its roots won't hold.
I love living things, yet not every flower
Keeps step with me. Wrong time, wrong power.

Years — like birds. The chimes — to war.
Friends — to the altar, one by one, in haste.
I stand at the threshold, gaze into night.
Yes, I could wear white. But it's not right.
Not the right chord. Not the right flight.
The world won't match. The vibration's a waste.

Not the right vibrations — a sign of fate,
Not in my rhythm, not in dreams I trace.
I'm a whirlwind. You're a calm. I'm fire. You're ice.
Let none judge who cannot read between space.
I am here. You were. No gift can suffice.

Chorus
I'm not yours, and you're not mine,
We're apart, yet no grudge, no sign.
But the love is not with you,
No false praise — honor true.

Евгений Грибков
2026 год
http://stihi.ru/2026/08/03/5963