Watching and waiting
I’ll take a picture of this moment
As I stagger for a better morning
With bated breath, under the burning skies
With every brief look
At the void that murdered this canvas
I become less of who I once was
The last chance to feel has gone cold
I tried to convince myself
That the love I made you hold
Didn’t tear us apart
But only made you better for yourself
Please attempt to feel the realness
Our truth is fading, it’s no longer talking
But I feel no less of what fastened me to you
Do what you must; I’ll be the dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem