grazed, words

grazed, words lay on paper
like ice flowers
born from the winter of silence –
if you touch them, they melt and gather their water
on your skin and on your thought,
trying desperately to trickle
within,
at warmth.
otherwise, forgotten by you
and by me and by others like us,
they evaporate slowly in time –
and only rarely
they become immortelles.

 

 

© Liliana Negoi

 

originally written in Romanian

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