Her dying

the  small  glass  box  
of  damaged  soul
is  closed.  
there  is  no  holes.
the  ghost  of  sound
never  knocks
the  door.

my  lonely  peaceful
paradise
means  silence
in  my  thoughts.
I'll  take  my  pills-
they  change  the  size
of  holes  in  mind  
and  doors.

i'm  watching  dying
of  the  Muse
without  way  to  breath.
the  music  seems  
to  be  diffused
with  the  silent  dreams.

the  ghost  of  sound  
never  cries
it  doesn't  have  
the  shade.
i'll  recognize
at  dying  times
the  Silence
And  her  breath.

адреса: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=235923
Рубрика: Лирика
дата надходження 20.01.2011
автор: Real_Princess