Yekaterina Bezpalaya

I walk through a patch of yellow flowers,
Some have shimmer, some have a glint of gold.

Others invite the sun to play,
...

A pencil, some paper,
a pen, and a chair.
A desk by the window,
and the wind through your hair.
...

No one knows the rocks that burden my shoulder,
breaking bones piece by piece.
No one sees my rapid heartbeats,
as they are drowned by head hard thoughts.
...

The bead from a necklace,
The kiss from a date.

The love from my parents,
...

These hands have touched everything,
as so far goes the truth.
The deep, ridged scars,
are the obvious proof.
...

A sweet aroma of freshness hardly lingers,
slightly unconcealed.
Cracks in the sky invisibly splinter the clouds.
For even a moment,
...

There are so many parts to this girl that you see,
Feigned smiles are only a tidbit of she.
Well-practiced acts doth she show,
But of seams on the heart,
...

The tree stands still.
It moves its hands in a strange greeting,
as the sunrays warmly kiss both my cheeks.
All spirits of Mother Earth are listening for my depart.
...

There’s no going back from where I’ve come from,
No rewinds,
No grips on “reverse”
No oil marks from faulty erasers
...

Cities of people.
Bushes of dirt.
Trees of leaves.
Bags of potato chips.
...

I sit here solemnly.

Attempting to draw up a beauty that is foreign to me.
...

Swallow me.
Be done with me.
Cry for me those deceitful tears.
Plague me relentlessly and
...

I ask myself sometimes,

When it is you grew up so fast?
...

For few who hold the value high,
To age with grace,
No time deny,
Are they who praise what nature gives,
...

Worshippers are many,
Truths there are but few,
And yet my only following,
Is the faith I have in me and you.
...

It feels what’s broken never heals,
What ails, never mends.
Yet time keeps sifting day through day,
My heart gets strong again.
...

There was a girl who played with fire,
Who bit the flame and nicked the pyre,
And strode with barren feet on barren ground,
And never was a fear of singed flesh found.
...

you live to die another day

with sinful sun and wicked rays
...

And I screamed for you from these distant shores,
Still smiled all the same because I missed you so,
Such a faulty attempt it was,
To dream away that sorrowed time,
...

I dwell in a cold, empty blue.
I sing in it,
Love little in it,
Breathe its stagnant air.
...