I’ve started missing the scent of your hair,
The dew that fell on your skin, so white and fair,
I miss the sting of those pink marks, the trace
Of a Tigress’s claws—is that the case?
I miss the stars that shine within your eyes,
Your lashes lowered in a shy disguise,
And those two voices, singing a sweet moan,
Like birds in a cage, in ecstasy alone.
Birds in a cage
© Copyright: Святослав Соловьев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126102006862
Свидетельство о публикации №126102006862
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