I wish the stars could cry-
The sky, bled dry
By your desire.
Hacking at the air, flailing
Hitting out,
Spinning, spiritual, spiteful.
Cutting him off
Because he knows
The hatred in your face,
The accusing look in your eyes
That shifts the blame.
But I caught you,
With the blade in your hand,
Ready to cut me to pieces.
I could have blocked you,
Spun away and left before the thrust,
But I’d rather just let you
Stab me again,
Once more to feel the pain.
I can plead, in search of bliss
(Cupid must have missed)
I’ll plead my ignorance in this case,
Bleed out my heart in surprise and
Please myself, rather than be alone.
He must have missed; been drunk that night,
Skewed the arrow meant for you
And hit me twice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fantastic meaning within this piece.