Читать книгу Star Wanderer writes. A soft whisper on the lips. Contemporary Prose - - Страница 46

A soft breeze touches my lips. And strands of my long hair wind like a train of memories. They waltz in a waltz of emotions, my sweet misery. There you are. As if you were kissing me yesterday and looking at me with kind, caring eyes. As if your hands want to protect me from all the bad things. I believe in the spark of memory more than in a fairy tale of false confessions. There were no long tales in my life anyway, as if I was always over a cliff and in dreams, only not to fall. They say you have to shake it off and walk like a cat at ease after all the trials. One of the most difficult tasks in life, between the lines, no one has ever learned to read. In the word “no”, no one sees the gentle “yes”. And in the proud lioness’ footsteps there is always a naughty, barefoot, insecure little girl. And he will never, never hear her…

Armed with the years, completely disarmed themselves, inventing a set of silly rules that I do not believe, but deceiving myself again and again. In this nonsense called “must”, for the sake of “self”, believe me, it is not worth living. I have not sought the motivation to deceive, I am tired of the false sun outside the window. It is as if I have not lived for so long, not even in my dream. Once again, the insulted girl will run away, perhaps leaving a trace in the heart of someone who cannot help himself. But I, who collect these shards of happiness, fleeting and only my moments. I continue to believe in miracles, where a spark of love, still alive, not extinguished, a magic lamp in my soul, makes me wake up and make wishes again and again, as always. The wind of memories…