The darkness floods my bedroom floor,
The candles die, we need no more.
Shadows lock the window tight,
To drown the world in depths of night.
Strip off the silk, let skin be bare,
I want to feel the pulse, the snare.
My heart’s a nova, heat and bone,
The end of everything we’ve known.
Moonlight bleeds through curtain lace,
As I surrender to your face.
In waves of sweat, you draw me near,
No space for doubt, no room for fear.
A "little death," a rhythmic strain,
I take the pleasure and the blame.
Like heavy snow from frozen heights,
I’m crashing down through endless nights.
You crave the Queening, let it be,
Sink deep and take the soul from me.
Let’s turn this friction into art,
It’s over now...
But here’s the start.
Москва 1996-2026
It s Over
© Copyright: Вадим Краснощеков, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №226031900475
Свидетельство о публикации №226031900475
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