I looked out the window
And people were getting warm
On their couches of hugs
Blankets of kisses
And excessive chocolate highs
Sitting cross-legged on this tired chair
I hear the floors groan in exhaustion
As I shift uncomfortably
Waiting, glaring at the clock
Blinking later, as tears made me shimmer
The glow of the moon dims
The stars recline to their hammocks
Time races but still I'm stagnant
Juxtaposed to the feeling
Of new kind of low
My forehead itches, sweat forms
As my tired hands crafted
Sweet nothings for you
Hoping that you come home soon
So I'd be alright again
I feel bereft of a certain joy
A persistent pang claws at my insides
I'm still intertwined with you
I know this more than I know myself
For without you, pain is all I become
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem