Poezja

It was in reach for, 
a chilling sensation. 
A flame of the moon. 
 
The world shrinks. 
You become ready 
for the direst consequences. 
 
You deserve to be hurt 
in the arms of truancy, 
without a trace of remorse. 
 
The wounded breast. 
It wanted to disappear― 
and come back in dark. 
 
Frozen, the repeat hymn. 
It lives in my heart. 
How can I forget you, 
O, my tormentor!