you, dear

Written by: Lebedyenko Berborodov

you, dear were my depraved, inelegant swan. envisioned in the moonlight - romanticized, wearing your cheap, red lipstick - and desperate to ravish me. if you did not love me the succulent fruit upon lip and breast would diminish here and now. i said, what man is without his mistress, and you smiled, exposing those crooked teeth. i love you, much more than i loved you then. you seem to have adopted the image of an ill bird, and in my dreams misery has approached you, shackled you; condemned you to love a furious man. i am sorry i could not endure with you, the tempestuous love for beauty. i did not wish to search for you, because i feared that you might be more appealing with those poignant bruises upon your face, declaring your mistake. i remember, in the morning, your breath was like a toxic thunder, as you prepared your quivering lips to kiss me, i did not know i loved you then, but i love you now. and when daylight breaks through the aperture of the night, my lovely sin, i will perish, because even now i love your transparent shadow. the earth, too, is harsh to me on burning sunlit mornings - and i love you today, much more than i loved you then. and only on this day i have been told by the wind that you are alive and well, but not happy.