My fears persist, beside which you subside.
Closed, yet you open to me, confess and profess it all.
Bitterly I whisper candy into your ear,
it’s up to you whether or not you take a bite.
I sit subdued and gaze toward nothing,
my hand closes, tightly, until it is round.
Mistakes are what lead you to bathe in me,
desperation allows me to refrain from you.
Your words penetrate as it bite my lip,
again my hand becomes tight.
The true tragedy is not in action,
it is in my profuse lack of re-action.
Coldly I nod and forgive,
but its on his behalf, not mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.