I remember a sound time
A time of firm smile
My hand on my tepid chest
I felt an abundant marching band
The beats sung with intensity
Saturating my mind with music candy
But that was long ago
My broken chest
Now a cold pallid flesh
Sings merrily no more
My brittle hand feels no movement
Has my once satisfied heart died?
Using both of my shimmering hands
I willingly rip open my chest
Like a present of non excitement
Then what my weeping eyes saw
Sent my mind to the electric chair
There was an inky endless hole
In my once flowing heart
The warm crimson sugar
Had drained all out
This is why I could not feel
If only I could find the one called her
Maybe she has the missing piece
Then just by her alluring eyes
My heart will start a motif again
Until I feel her silk like touch
Which fills my heart back up with red
Then as we hold close
We embody each other
Becoming one prime heart
One intensely roaring band
Playing the music of flame
Then this time forgotten
Will be remembered
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice metaphors... I like sounds like a story of a broken heart?