DO NOT DO IT
Don’t follow my steps
because
I don’t know where they lead
and if they carry any new
pain from the empty streets,
that multiply
aimlessly
in hearts
of the Wanderers
of the south.
Don’t listen to my words
because suddenly
I will shut up
unexpectedly.
And I will leave
without saying goodbye
with the wound of love,
that bleeds
redder
than red poppies.
Prepared Angela Kosta writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator, journal
