In a deep surface,
warmth is in its limits.
A piece of satin
is the only thing
that covers the body
from frigidity.
Lifeless shapes,
head's prosaic
everything feels -
unoccupied
and not moving
that evokes to ending the book.
In that cold,
unoccupied,
and lifeless space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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