By fountains where golden pigeons beg
You sit like Hiroshima crying
Your dreams as dark as handcuffs
Your chains where childhood died
I love you like an eternal prison
Growth is too arduous
My self-inflicted contempt wants you
The Wind Cries Mary is on
A dozen roses delivered by a vampire
Smiling deserts of iron lovers
Hope is a city street filled with tricks
We treat one another like an AA meeting
Your mother calls from New York
You tell her you finally met someone
We are like a broken bottle of Burgundy
We fit together like shattered glass
Pieces on the ground in the alley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem