You left your hand hanging out of the window
I saw, just a glimpse
Bicycle wheels break through puddles and smash into walls
An empty house filled with lust and broken glass
I amplified the taste
Drudgery kicked me in the face
Taking the flesh of my cheek in a brown envelope
The shelf hung crooked on the floor to take the weight
I asked you to take the telephone line
Your hand gripped the banister
Balanced on the top step, your shadow stayed behind
I changed the locks to the outside
The wind chased me
A Rose tinted sweater on the washing line
Stays dry
The street whispered a lullaby to open my eyes
And then
I knew
that you were never come home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem