Situated in backroads of my mind are melodies of intense fervor, tickling my brain with avid reminders of the past.
Standing by the wayside of my imagination, filled with unanticipated hopes, leading me to tunnels of past recrimination.
Folding remarks made in haste, stashing them in caverns, away from my mind so I may not think of the hurt associated with them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem