Poezja

Blaze on the horizon was spreading.
No peak was left green,
time was running out.

Courier had left without a message
carrying cyanide capsules,
to kill or get killed.

My grey sky stuck with silent clouds
will wait for the stars.
The bride will leave under the shade of shine.

Serum was darkening
its milk of poison.
Blood was thinner than water.

The buried silence was turning
brown with pain.
Bruises had outraged the words.