“Someday I will absorb you completely,” I said, taking in parts of his body. My mouth does not obey the knowledge of a known slip and, day after day, I try again and again. You, in turn, also vainly want to suck in my breasts into the grip of your mouth - and nothing comes out.
But something keeps us together all these years. Calling it "love", we get rid of violence to call the reality in accordance with our real feelings, which do not teach ways to gain clarity. Only something amorphous that no one can explain. No one knows what it is - our love or somebody's else.
Beginning: we are two idiots who, falling into the sweet, hoarfrosty slumber of the night, swallow the flowed out words. Our eyes-buns are closed. One of us says: “mili-mili”, another replies: “titi-kali”. Next, both bodies fall into the slough of sleep.
Yes, the slough. This is what two years ago we began to call our love. Our subjective, rather than objective rag case of love. I want nobody to call it otherwise.
translated by I.
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий