Zerkalo

frozen forest,
my first silence still walks
barefoot through me,
a breath kneeling in snow,
learning the shape of eternity.

Immortelle hums
from the warm hollows of skin,
a dry, golden pulse,
old kisses rising again
in hot sand dunes
where bodies learned to love.

"Le Parfum Du Deuil Tranquille"

A waxen hush seeps from old wooden rooms, embalming time in fragrant shadows.

Winter falls heavy on the village you once knew, and every silent, smoky path carries you from the home you can no longer reach.