Isn’t it sad that antiseptic words
(Words that smile slightly, even)
Can become all that is left
(As a jaded memory: maybe?)
of something
That was everything it was
before it really was
I miss septic wounds
That scarred and scared
Of lovers tiffs
That was not really justified there
I miss the tears that wiped the wounds
They say salt has its magic
Perhaps – but will it do?
Come back I could say
If words were mine
But words and wounds have
an action benign.
I could say come back
But what good would it do?
What good if its not really you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem has so much more depth than the usual poem I read here about lost love. Your first stanza is absolutely wonderful...and you developed the thought quite well. You are a true poet! Raynette