Missed your tenderness...
To put it in a pocket, as in the childhood -
Candies with the tender name "Caramel",
And thought that it "lies" there, to be heated.
To have heard plenty of this silence,
When you are silent and you iron my hands...
... In what - that sense we with you are sick,
Are sick with need in each other.
All we mask: "Affairs, again I put",
Trying not to notice grief of cracks.
But... only look... and "I waited for you,
Missed. "..." And I missed. It isn't less."
Also tenderness a ringing streamlet flows,
And we are silent... and it isn't necessary to speak...
... As in the childhood a throat - warm milk,
So we love warm souls.
And every day all is more difficult to say goodbye...
And life goes and doesn't give indulgences...
I don't have enough your tenderness.
It is a pity that it... not to put in a pocket.