Oh it aches
How it aches
Because of you
For you.
I could not have imagined an organ existed
Just to be in pain
When you could not be obtained.
And yet hear I lie
On a moonlight-strewn bed
Colder than a vampire’s caress-
Pining
Writhing
In pain.
Where comes this memory of joy?
Had I ever known the touch of your skin against mine?
I am without the sanctity I boasted of
Before I met you -
But there is no ‘before you’
The lines I write have nought to show
But the truth of my heart’s glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem