I hate to remember dying love.
lying beneath burning emotion
holding my heart
with both hands
trying to keep the last of life
from leaking out
wondering if there is any reason
to hold on.
your shadow blotted the emotion
for a moment
and you asked if I'd still love you forever,
I laughed,
using my last breath.
dramatic and ever poetic. always, you end your poem with a final punch, yet leaving the reader clamoring for more of what you have to say. you leave me in awe, poet eila.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful, just no word to describe it! ! ! ! ! ! !