To E. **** Poem by Aisha Baranowska

dearest of my heart
my second half of the apple -
so what, if prohibited...?

I have cried
rivers of tears
oceans of despair
cold like the air
of a lonely dawn...

beloved! canst thou see
my great desolation
the amount of my love
canst thou perceive...?

if so, speak a word
let not my ears
meet with silence of the grave -

thy soul I crave...
thy charming ways
are my truest obsession!

thy guitar's otherworldly sound
my spirit doeth annihilate

and the glow of thine eyes
freezeth me to death -

oh, why must I know thee late
to share thy loving
and in thine arms give away last breath...!

woe! who loveth without hope -
whose days and nights have melted
into one mournful entity

who cometh and who goeth
without staying long in any place -

at mercy of her cruel fate...

[23/10/2013]