because i cannot tell you
exactly the facts,
all the details that may
hurt you
and me at the end
of this
pathway where pebbles
have sharp edges
and mud is sticky and
foul
rotten leaves abound
and worms
are busy eating what
leaf is left,
because i do not want
to hurt you
neither does i want to
suffer
with self-inflicted
injuries
and so i am back
with these lines there is
no way that
you can sense that
there is something blunt
in the vowels
something unspeakable
in my consonants,
as expected,
life in dots and dashes
some blanks
too.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem