Не забывай меня

A minor evening rustles through the pages of a diary: a simple mantra about memory and love, repeated like a gentle hook. No paradise is needed - closeness within four walls is enough, where the moon plays the role of luck and admiration gushes like a fountain. Words go round and round like the tide: eyes - an ocean, a figure - a fountain, and it seems that the whole world has agreed to be a simple witness to this endearing habit. In the breath - at once passion, habit, and a touch of comical drama: infatuation that declares itself loudly, but in a minor key. Warm and a little awkward, like an old photo in a book: everything can be forgiven when you are close - and that is almost enough poetry.