The Martyr of the Oshka Doll

Teach me the art of breaking hearts,
I for once want to learn how to turn the ordinary into a poetess.
It wasn’t my intention to find heartache, it was to find love;
But like loose change that is stored in the deepest corners of your wallet, I drowned into the crowds while the ‘krasivaya sluzhanka’ captured your heart and attention.

Like a five-minute cigarette break, we were over!
It’s a beautiful body not a beautiful heart and thoughtful mind that wins at the day’s end.
Of course it is true, do not deny! You can’t expect a charcoal pencil to draw you a rainbow.
Charcoal can leave you a stain called love that is a dangerous Pantone to wear, for it is one that never bleeds and never weeps.

Who knew I had it in me?
Those who took the time to get to know me.
Much like you, unaware of what your intense gazes meant!

One day I’d like to take a walk with you to some random place
And have the most random conversations with a glass of wine, whiskey or rum.
As I tell you honestly how much I love you without fear of knowing why, or how we are where we are;
Without the fear of the Russian krasota, who I know I lose to every day you breathe her.

It doesn’t work out, I know!
Maybe why I would settle for just a walk as we talk,
About how the universe gave me this one night and we sealed our lips, knowing that your sunrise tomorrow will be next to her and not me.

Your eyes will sparkle looking at her radiant young fair skin, and not my dusky tones.
Her sculpted body with chiselled in features that are pleasured by your fingertips; It’s not my pottered curves that round-up hissing like an angry coiled snake.
For I cuss how the Russians intervene right from the US Elections to the love interest I take, how they ruin the world before it even has a chance to unfold!

I hang like loose change in your pockets, there;
Making the noise but never getting your attention while the Ruble rejoices in the songs of her praise!


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