Alicja Kuberska
The chat
I knocked at your mind.
Let me in - I asked.
I have brought you something,
my crazy thoughts and dreams,
the works collected from
the oceans of creativity.
Look how pretty they are,
even the smallest ones,
smaller than the sand.
I do not want them - you answered.
My world is sterile,
arranged and known.
Your every written poem
Can ruin my calm,
Which was built over years.
The recognition can be painful
Because of its insolence and ignorance.
The questions wake up the sleeping fears.
I prefer to stay safely in
well - known loneliness.
https://truml.com