love,
a series of deaths
by design...
self immoliations
by candle light.
intimate Gethsemenes,
crosses that smell familiar.
bodies left silent
by unmarked roads.
small furry animals
killed by cars in the night.
yet i stand by your window,
with unrestrained eyes...
hands opening and closing,
drool on my chin.
watching you sweep the floor,
of any last trace.
naming the demons
that stole the night!
Intimate refractive poem of that most subtle of beauties, evasive and unforgiving.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Its elusive to me where this goes, every line verges on a different direction, but the journey is still fantastic ride.