You were the little imperfection changing my perfect
little world. And I clung to that, clung to you. You were
the lavish ecstasy of my life that embellished upon
the strife that you inflicted.
Your ostentatious bitterness hurt, but it was worse that
I knew you didn’t believe in me. It was the vigorous work
of confronting your insults sidestepping your doubt in me
and putting up with your constant depression and dependence
that finally did me in, and finally swallowed me whole.
It was your pushing me away that set things askew.
But it was my refusal to pull closer and help that
finally drove us apart.
With or without you, I am still mourning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem