White Night

 There will be thunder then.
 Remember me.

Say ‘ She asked for storms.
’ The entire
world will turn the colour of crimson stone,
and your heart, as then, will turn to fire.


That day, in Moscow, a true prophecy,
when for the last time I say goodbye,
soaring to the heavens that I longed to see,
leaving mI haven't locked the door, 
Nor lit the candles, 
You don't know, don't care, 
That tired I haven't the strength 
To decide to go to bed.
 
Seeing the fields fade in 
The sunset murk of pine-needles, 
And to know all is lost, 

That life is a cursed hell: 
I've got drunk 
On your voice in the doorway.
 
I was sure you'd come back.

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