tried to write an emotion about you,
i wanted it to be a poem, nothing like prose
because i want it not to be evident, something
that can simply be implied from words, this love
that i feel for you, this one that makes me fly like a bird
on top of the highest building in the city so i can see everything
so i can be omniscient, i want it crisp
and neat and divine,
but the more i keep on wishing for something to be
poetic, frankly, i go back to something so mundane
verbose, and worldly and casual
as a conversation within myself
i ask myself again if what i feel for you is love,
let me be honest,
i lied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
truths are coming out as lies, and lies sometimes forget what is being said. A poet is always alive and write many a things of vision. Best of luck.