you volunteer to shrink a little bit
like a rotten pumpkin to
let her know that you also know how to die
and find a way to reach her
in her own death.
you let go all that is fluid something that is liquid
you make these
turn to gas so you also have a way of telling her
that you also know how to disappear
she may close her eyes in anger because of you
she may like to abuse you and not talk to you as you gaze to find out
the reason why the stars are not out tonight
why there is not a single shining moon
you are so patient waiting like a fisherman with his bait
to catch a fish tonight
out there in the deep sea in desolation
you give her time to change and to understand your longing
for stars
your thirst for the light of the moon
it will be painful, you have humiliated yourself in all these
shrinking of your arms and hands
you become like a tiny dot in humility to the line of
bold letters and exclamation marks
you give up, you get out of the bed and stopped staring at the ceiling
you open the door of this cold room and you close it again
to leave her
still closing her eyes keeping her tears from falling.
it is over you say. it is over. it is too late. another door has been locked
and this time you do not wish anyone in.
a wise man sometimes likes to use
a period.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem