What distance speaks – drips of my half-through empty glass.
Like silent kiss of doubt, the spicy sip makes a dance on my lips in numbness,
The burning cry of emptiness travels through my throat into my bleeding heart.
The white walls speak to me in solitude we share,
They trap me , and I too become a part of dusty cement.
How many nights like this I have to spend in void coldness of the moonlight
Knowing you are dancing on the winds not local here.
Maybe we are idealists and that is why I obscure away from this reality,
Or time is only the shifting waters of the two merging rivers.
I guess this unavoidable silence of incomprehensible distance between us has stolen half of my sanity,
And I am only waiting to disappear into my stardust, so that I can turn into your rising sun.
© Elena Sergienko
Late Night Conversations 