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The shadow of my voice is from the cycle of poems *More and a poetess* Prologue Bitter coffee... and golden smoke Draws dreams on the pages of the frank. This evening became sweet and mute, So that feelings do not die in ink. ****************** I Lying down night... Ink comes alive, My thoughts are inaudibly touched. It will reliably hide in the lines Everything that sounded tender in them. II Draws a pulse, leads a fine line, Where the word goes into the picture. I will leave myself here between the lines — Like a breath, like a timid kiss. 3 Someone sees the letters and you — will feel the wax And the whisper of the souls who survived the fire. It's a confession where the excess glitter disappears, Like a white light on your wrist. IV Not everyone is able to accept that silence What's beating in the heart of a black feather... I stole a bird's breath to write, Where my shadow fell on the edge of my soul. V Turns the night off its heavy eyelids, And the sound melts in the twilight of warmth. I'm letting this flight go forever, Leaving my two wings to heaven. © Copyright: Elena Kudarenko, 2026 Certificate of publication №126050702247