Rare concentric circles
circles of tired eyes,
tired blue fear,
and leftover lives.
Leftover rain, puddled
leftover words, muddled,
leftover you and I.
Yet,
yet you and I
were once kickjumping
kickstarting life
Our electric currents
startle -sparked
flickering fires
and fireworks.
And the blue
was the blue
of your eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem