автор: DianaStefanova

Think of me watching the hour of violet crumble
downward on leaves, sad that none touched the curve of the sky;
eyelids surrender your features to indigo, humbled.
Butterflies dream in the nothing between you and I.

Somewhere sweetly your fingers with someone’s are meeting;
stretched from a heartbeat to never, unnoticed I fade -
was it my sorrows you laughed, your joy I was weeping,
feeling you dance on the canvas from lifetimes away.

Think of me burning the candles of sunset and waiting -
turn of kaleidoscope, stirring of butterfly dust.
Wishing that fragments remembered the whole after breaking.
Wishing that Time found the alchemy secret to ’’us’’...