Underneath the body of a false lover,
Comes quickly the liquid of the heart.
Pleading for gravity to assist its fall,
Onto the white sheets of a torn maiden.
Above the head of the forlorn outcast,
The feel of cracked fists on his shoulders.
He cannot reach his dreams when forced
To bow before an emotionless master.
Pushed out of a swollen, but pretty face.
Nothing hurts like the blows of the once loved,
The forever loved, because love is eternal,
Like the force on her heart, the weight that sleeps.
The mind of the forsaken but true,
Has never hit the floor with such force.
Quick, is the renaming of this hideous word.
Rejection tastes like sugared blood.
If blood is named the output of the body,
Then the tear may be named the substance
Truest to the bloody and beaten heart.
Heavy is its fall, unbearable is its weight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This Poem is incredible, its so hard to choose a favorite of yours, but this by far is my favorite so far, simply beautiful my friend.