How long has it been,
Since the world felt warm,
And children skipped in parks,
Parents worked their shifts,
And lovers held tight?
With each house that's passed,
We scavenge for food,
In basements,
In storages,
Tarnished with an eerie mood.
Is it so wrong,
For me to hope,
To wish,
To pray,
Life will return?
Yet I am a man,
And so is the Russian,
This isn't a tale,
Not a duty,
Where a child will be born.
And even then,
I can't help but think–
What would happen,
If one of us were not,
Perhaps–
This would be some story,
Like Adam and Eve,
Where the world will start,
Where one will sin,
Where we will love.
Yet, love is a strange accusation,
For this is an understanding,
Not a love–
He is my enemy,
As I am his.
We fought on the lines,
As countrymen do,
With weapons inhumane,
As sinners do,
And wished to rid the other clean.
Now here I am,
With my enemies hand,
Eyes locked together,
Face bright and warm.
Our hands are rough,
When they collide,
From hardships and years of war.
A dance I propose,
Tone held amusement,
Across the rubble-littered floor.
YOU ARE READING
Cold Love
Tarihi Kurgu(Yes this cover is perfect LMAO) Collection of poems based off an oc :)
