Will I remember to breathe when you're here,
when you're gone?
I forget,
I remember,
I exhale a hurricane and leave steam on your skin.
I learn loss when the doors are closed,
I set sail at all the wrong times.
I am too human,
I leave a mark wherever I go,
it is not always a good one.
We all want to leave postcards, silhouettes, golden
but mine always turn gray and crumble to dust.
I want to leave color,
flood these hours with more than minutes.
I want to leave fingerprints
so you know I was here.
But this might be a crime scene,
if it is I will take all the blame
I hope if it is the blood runs beautiful.
Will I remember to breathe when you're here,
when you're gone?
Maybe it doesn't matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem