Poezie
***
1 min lectură·
Mediu
It`s raining...,
the minutes are rotting, hurried in the hours,
I fall slowly in the musty duration of time.
I search for you,
I search for you like a mad person
in the darkness of the night
but you float absently
among the dead drops of the sky,
toward the stars drowned in the rain.
I call you--
my faded whisper hurt the tumult.
You are rising,
I want to follow you
but an imaginary chain of deformed skeletons
hinders my flying
and I crumble tiredly
in the greedy arms
of the mud, imbued with death...
a wet touch frightes me...
you are here...
It`s raining...
our corpses make love...
far from the world,
far from life...
in the chaos.
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