The Sun, The Heart

The Sun, The Heart

look, the sun is a forgotten smoke, my friends
on pictures, gymnopedias, symphonies and quietly,
so quietly it got inside, lead gold
as if it is a bad, bad fairy tale,
but there is no one yo tell it to because.
oh, yes - because. just look so accusatory
and honestly at yourself,
to be proud of your silences on the road,
devoid of both sympathy and poles.
machete diagnosis tomorrow -
to inhale the better version of the words
but to exhale only ashes from your heart
which you happened to forget on the embers.

and the sun is actually drawn.
and the desire to belong to someone - gone.

Author: Ninko Kirilov

Photo: Mayur Gala on Unsplash