When I see-
The depth of
Your beauty-
I see the shallowness
Within myself.
The lanky,
Scraggly haired
Youth that I am.
All eyes that
Meet mine are
Derived from
Sympathy,
Or, perhaps
Curiosity,
Of why I walk
That way-
Awkwardly with
My head hung.
When I hear-
The richness
Of your voice
(Like wind chimes)
I tend to
Evaluate mine,
And blush deeply
Like a stop sign-
Brushed over with
Black paint-
And placed
In a parking lot
Where no soul
Ever goes.
When my eyes
Meet yours
(Indeed like flesh
Clashing with a
Heated sword)
I burn through
You with words
Of Apathy-
And yet, a silent
Dystrophy builds
Inside of me-
The jester,
The joker,
Are all any
Are able to see.
My essence eludes
Your eyes-
How excruciating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Once Again I'm Moved Ever So Deeply By Your Writing. ~Autumn~