I should start writing.
Something,
anything
for you.
After all
you wrote
my life story.
But where to begin?
I can't start
to imagine.
The rhythm
of your heartbeat
make me remember.
The memories
of your warmth,
how can I forget?
You made me a home
even before
our house was built.
Your love outpoured
from all corners of
these crisp sheets.
Your home-cooked meals
delight my senses
bringing me closer
to your bossom
breathing
touch.
Maybe
I'm not destined
to have as much
of you
or
have I already
had enough
for this
lifetime?
You lined my
life story
then ceased.
What comes after
this
space?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem