Teeth grind together,
shattering like glass,
Mouths bleed,
as words spill out,
no love,
nor heat,
is spoken through bloodied lips,
only the words of solemn Drips.
The echoing rain,
resignates deeper,
as I think of what I know to drip....
No thoughts of just simple liquid.
These thoughts remain constantly Crimson.
Rains of heated drops,
from wrists fall upon,
my extremeties,
heating the flesh of this frozen body,
Blood resurrects all,
yet leaves me empty...
'I will hold this love,
as long as I'm deemed worthy,
of leaving myself.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I wonder if such love exists beyond your poems..still the imagination is marvelously magnificent..what if the same love makes you weep tears of crimson blood..i will retaliate and not befooled by such unworthy love..my love replaced by mighty hatred..