Cold, lonely nights, sitting by myself after death has
visited with the seriousness of lost love.
Presenting itself in crashing waves of remorse, no way
to recover or go on.
Life buried beyond everything with no reprieve, a hapless
existence with nothing to show for it anymore.
Now that love has gone and left for that great beyond,
here I sit, mourning your absence in my life.
No way to go back in time to retrieve what we once had.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Magnificent metaphoric play...A shade or two further to the dark side of your pen...Arguably my favorite style. You afforded this Poe-esque styled work much...Ah, Poe...no argument...my most favorite bard.~FjR~