I can think about pain
I can talk about the pain scale,
but feel yours? Pain has no remorse.
I remember the grimace
of your agony, brown eyes staring
towards the back wall where
a row of sterile bandages,
and white sheets piled high
And if the quiet, the darkness,
the entire room with you
and me, the newly hung antibiotic,
the four pills to take the edge,
were not enough,
the fog rising in the distance,
a window into the night, reminded
us of where we were.
Another night of pain.
Close the light, you tell me,
Give the pain some time
to leave,
as if the pain were a stranger
moving slowly to the far corner
of the room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem