light sinks like sadness
through your window
down
down
to where we stole
the blush from sunset
and spread like butter
on naked sheets.
no sound now
but snoring crickets bored
by a lightless night,
their song mocking
the damned infernal
now, now, now
of wanting wasted
on one who is no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is good work Lori..... Love the shape of the poem.... Haunting in a strange kinda way...... Roger.