For You

My heart a barren desert is,
my mind – a pocket.
I fill it in with golden sand,
and carry it alone forever.

Having Nothing to Say

.... the door in front of her was open; she looked at it with the nonchalant look of a child and then decided to close it. The room was dark and empty and spooky. The branches of the birch* tree were swaying under the gentle gust of the wind outside the old house. She was going nowhere...

She stood there – at the middle of the shabby place – dresses all in black, pure and deep black, that could hide even the slightest hint of emotion in ones soul. And, yes, that was the reason she loved it so much... shrouded in black was her soul, caged inside her feelings – away from everything, form everyone. All the people that came and passed through her life were uninvited, unexpected, unfamiliar. They all wanted part of her heart, to take off the precious black cloak and feast on her... The only thought back then in her head was that... “no, I don't want,” no other words, not a single sound.

Her bare feet left bloody prints on the ground... her bloody tears glimmered in the darkness of the night. The room was cold – she could see her breath. And only they, the stars were there... once again as every night. Her only solace, her only friends... that demanded nothing and had nothing to say.

* in Slavic culture the birch tree is considered to be a gift of God; a symbol of light and purity that protects people.
in Scotland birch is related to dead people!