Шрифт:
I need no changes to go on.
Just for forgiveness I am strong.
But at the truth I'm ill at once.
The mercy teaches to despise.
I damn the circumstance
You've made. Am I nobody to create?
Am I so weak just to decide?
I follow what they had designed.
What for I play their bitter roles?
The will is meek to act my own.
2016
The Subway
Let`s just meet and sit in cafe,
Let`s listen to the chime of forks.
Let`s move to subway, feeling shyness.
Let`s listen to the clock tic - toc.
You will uncover that I love you...
And I will see that I am your hunger,
That you have caught me like a flu.
The earth will go out from under.
And while the laughter we`ll fall silent.
We`ll separate at the bus stop.
And you`ll decide: "She is not mine".
And I`ll accept: "He is so cold".
2017
The Broken Glass
I looked at world through the broken glass
And could not understand why it's so cracked.
My heart was made of cool and chilling ice,
That's why in spring I am used to going mad.
I looked at you as if I was abused
With sight of your bluish-creamy hands.
You was so tiny, made of solitude
And to my shame you have refused to fade.
I knew your fingers cut with broken glass
I knew the reasons for you to be so cracked.
I never tried to love. I just despised.
And made you so fragile and deeply sad.
I saw the world but I failed to feel.
You felt the core and never tried to hide.
I locked the door, but could not conceal
The keyhole from your disclosing mind.
2016
The Wine
Drinking wine,I tried to smile.
I'm never yours,You're never mine.
Just silence makes us understand
Those crazy things we can't pretend....
2015
Feel Nothing
The suffocation makes me speak
With no conjunctions.
The pain will soothe,
The wounds will heal
My self-destruction.
No more I cry,
No more I bleed.
Just pale a little.
I am so safe,
As no more words
In vain are hissing.
I am so free.
I am alive.
Don't tell me something!
The fire dies,
As water cries,
And makes feel nothing.
2015
Prose
His gaze is floured with soda. His words are like smoke of the cigarettes. His lips are dry and spicy - like cinnamon.
The Sketchers – Cycle
I.
Once you gave me the wings. Ginger-red and very light, they were sparkling under the sunrays like the golden sand.
Woken up early in the morning and willing to drink some orange juice, I`ve been spreading them on the way to the kitchen. Then, being already winged, I stood barefoot on the cool balcony tile and welcomed frisky dawn of the hot, great Sun.
***
I didn`t want to sleep that evening. And exhausted by thinking about the eventualities, I`ve decided to dial your number.
– Hulloa?!
– Hi!
– Agnia? I am a little bit busy. Call me back tomorrow, please.
– I`m sorry, I don`t think I would. Battery is dying.
– But you are at home. Just charge it!
– You are at home too - in the kitchen, I suppose. And it is rather late for any plans...
– I love you, Agnia. I really have to go.
I looked at my watch. It was a half past eleven, practically midnight. Stars - in the sky.