Endless torture…
She comes in as I sit
Pair of pants is wearing
Her cuffs high to ankles
This is what I hated
When she wore
(My ex-wife)
She passes; isn’t her
But a shade and current
I am back where we were
Bony butt and small
Though of her, is of her
That also, had not liked.
“Please, please make her leave! ”
I pray to conscious.
But she is oil sleek
On the waves; in creeks
Of my mind and my thoughts…
Divorcee is torture…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem