I started tearing a tissue. An old tissue in which the cotton is easy tearing apart. I tore it into stripes, Twitch it in the small pieces of cloth. It was a summer afternoon, I sat slumped on the kitchen floor. In the distance you could hear the radio. Last night I cried. And this morning. In a dream. Under my withered eyelids You appeared Bringing the blossomed memories. In immoral attempts You want me sunken. Red dust of tissue And that tingling all over me In this icy solitude They take you by your waist And it's like you're here with me, With your head laid on the ****** tiles. Suffering floats through the air Darkened with the walls of smoke. I'm touching your death, Calmed for a long time, I'm saving your pain In the interior of your ribs. I can not tell whether this is really you, Grubby and rotten. Crushed. With my lips I'm touching the red clusters of your brain Which is slowly turning into roses Or maybe cyclamen. You are still present here, Your beauty has not changed Although your eyes are empty and cheeks sunken. I wipe your face remains with a tissue And I cry. I killed you, And put your soul in a jar Painted in the colors of my heart. And now we are here Together reclining in clotted blood Covered with cotton threads Of a tissue.