After his death silenced me
and I felt that pain of wishing he was here
that he would come to me in my dreams
he would walk my house at night
his body eating itself
while I begged him to go or become real
his ghost comes to me
white, decomposing
almost unbearable to see
and I am once again his girl in a garden
but a whisper of what it used to be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem