I’m already longing for the scent of your hair,
For the sudden dew on your body, pale and bare.
I ache for the sting of those pink lines left behind
By a Tigress’s nails—is that what’s on my mind?
I miss the starlight dancing in your gaze,
Your lashes lowered in a shy, soft haze,
And the twin voices singing a sweet, broken plea,
Like birds trapped in ecstasy, longing to be free.
Like trapped birds
© Copyright: Святослав Соловьев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126102006873
Свидетельство о публикации №126102006873
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