We escaped to the beach that year-
we always worked well there,
Just the two of us,
and all of our heavy-
baggage in tow.
Spring's door is soon-
to slam shut,
And together we will-
bake in summer.
Wandering through the,
stark white washed villa,
we melt in-
Common, plain, and oh so ordinary.
Yet we both know,
how cloudy we really are.
Your mood cold and steely,
mine was far from magnetic.
A bright lemon sun,
only drips bitterness upon us-
Surrounded by blue-green water,
your attention to detail
tells me it's teal.
Tides cough up,
last nights garbage.
Empty green bottles,
sea weed and a hollow shell.
Desperately tying to,
break the silence,
I lift the shell to listen-
Even the howling,
of the sea is mute
on this day.
That word again, hollow.
I let the sun burn my skin,
so I can peel off,
the dead layers-
Hopefully leaving me pink,
free from the dull existence I lead.
It's been raining on our
parade for years,
yet we continue to march,
in opposite directions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem