My hands
create
a flower and
a bird
my mouth opens
uttering
what you want
to hear
i presume
beauty
as usual you
are the one but
you are not
here
my hands offer
flowers for you
my mouth waits
for your kiss
just an imagination
i suppose
and then i finally
know
you've been dead
and buried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The piercing sadness of love lost, The very thing that hurts the most Totally felt in your beautiful creation