Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview

And then...

And then I died

by burn of rope

and lack of air

in my lungs desperately croaking for a breath.

The gate I opened

by my severed neck

was like passage due to cutting of a flower's head.

And then I flew - or did I flee? - to hyacinths long passed

of lost souls

just like mine,

finding me a redbud tree to climb.

So then I reached the tree with all its branches;

it was no soul in sight, only imagines

of you and I,

of you and I,

of you...

... And I besought then the noose I gathered,

and then I in my dreamt up damnation died.