Bloody Chess Poem by Katerina Val

Thus, the rabbit was burnt in its rush
and thus
the lady in red was chopped off her heart
there are no avidly purple games among us
shall we stand in front of everything, a lake of stagnant insanity;
shall we move above eternity, four rusty hands melting to be composed again;
we re-see, re-do, re-feel everything
how can I passionately be bond to your decoloured voice
when impressions are the pantheon of a human mind
how can my hands shake when your hue touches my hair?
that is nothing more than an alternated weakness, a stunted feather drifted by the wind
how, how can I, my love, trust eternity?
I am nothing more than an apathetic mass of emptiness
I am not being banal for nothing’s sake, I am just being mental
when you comb your hair, remember me; I am just the lady in red