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I often invent myself above you and above the clouds
I invent myself in the northwest where my thought goes where your fingertip ends pointing to a future that never came and only promised
I make up along your sides drinking the contours of all your colored marks along those scars that you have branded yourself and of which you are not ashamed I make up
I make you up
I wander and lose my soul in the darkness of a lie so beautiful and so bitter guilty of having darkened a sky
That now I paint only from memory
[2019©Yelena b.]
All rights reserved to me
Do not copy
Another masterpiece, Ma'am! I love the flow of words coming out from you...