trying to figure out
what i am and what you
really are
it's like peeling an egg
of its fragility
getting the roundness of
the yolk
and eventually leaving
nothing since i have consumed
it all and hence
this emptiness again
a space on the table and
the plate
and the fullness that was
never within....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem