Perhaps my words fall from tongue
like honey from a child's fingers
sweet and innocently,
curious and with guilt
Once you loved me above all others.
But just like the destiny of glass is to shatter,
so did we.
I've been tumbled around violently,
in your aftermath like a kite in a storm.
Like fired clay pottery absent hands.
No form, no shape and it bothers me that;
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy presence shower over me.
You may think that my soliloquy is pathetic, but i've always been like this, but now more than ever I need flagons to stay with me, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
So as my heart is being weighed in the Judgment hall of Osiris,
In the scale against the feather of truth, harmony and cosmic justice.
I slowly fade away the memory of you closing the hotel door.
My, oh my, my soul has never been this light before.
From the shores to the skies, to the shoulders of giants.
From gore to butteflies my thougts are pious.
And I end it here,
I bury you with your sharpened knives resting on your chest
at the depth of the rocks I lay you to rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem