She said to me that he had
'bought her undone',
that she was no longer the same person.
I looked into her eyes for the longest time.
Finally, I said nothing.
I had nothing to say about that.
I pictured you unwinding,
dissolving into a colored tangled mess.
But i couldn't have been more wrong.
The real point was that there was grey.
I just couldn't see it at the time.
I really like this one. There is no limit to how many times, and ways, that we can be reborn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Finely written, Marie.