Talk to me, don't let me die. Bashny.Net

Anatoly Golubovskiy



Talk to me, don't let me die.
As I remember, the first night we talked?
lilac, "Ten High"*, starlings shout tired
and the degree of tenderness, when ready to burst

aorta. Fingers gently cat's paw,
and aroma Courrages**, no residue
was screwed into the skull and doesn't want to let go,
you are ready though now to give themselves

And better — before. Work in the morning.
You whisper to me (royally broke my granite)
in which sense was one iota
in the subcortex, into the BIOS since then stitched...

I'm sorry, the rain pounding, I in a cafe to dry
in the morning prognozny, as always, lied.
Flowers like love — in Hatne I picked...
Talk to me, don't let me die

*Ten High — grade whiskey

**Courrages — perfume brand