O, Barbarous, You.
Your barbarous yawp, your silent whisper
An image that a young lady's got,
Our affair changed like a game, called twister
I have intentions, but forgot.
I saw you there, lately more often
An image keep challenging,
It felt like a cake that will be out of the oven,
Dangerous, better be thinking.
I talked to you twice, can't say it was made,
An image was there, clear enough
And though we are strangers, it was fate,
At least that's my silence, that could be rough.
And, how can I make anymore suggestion,
To the image that may be out of action.
Comments about this poem (O, Barbarous, You. by Nika Aidar )
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