Dead nerves
long to feel
the electricity,
the simple tingle
of hands held.
the simple touch
that feeling cannot create,
my mind longs for a carress,
perhaps beautiful- admirable,
envied among all,
god's will glare,
as divine love,
touches within these
departed souls.
Death seperates- to only test such divine love,
I know this love to be an envy,
this test will be but momentary.....
my fingers shall find you once more,
and run themselves along,
every inch,
of the body,
I know to be,
my other half.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem