The Past

Sergey Fyodorovich Fyodorov
The Past
Rags worn down,
Dust...
Something else,
On paper,
In poems...
Nostalgia tastes like
Our words...
My love for you...
A consumed desire.
Repeat?
...but the past
Cannot be brewed...

Boiling water, alas,
Cannot be brought to a boil in me...


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