It’s been too long, yet it feels like a weight
has evaporated from my chest, indicating another winter season.
Everything She touches turns gray, so as your memory decaying from the back of my mind.
The fog fades among the lit-smoked chimneys, wondering about the gravel from which I stand upon.
I remind myself there’s so much more than your empty cup and gasless tank; Forgiveness is like a loss phase in my brain.
I reflect the day you met him face to face; were you a man or did you shed the skin from your ravaged finger nails at the sight of his ghost?
I suppose I see the same grin, so predictable and admirable to your imprudent crowd.
What difference does it make whether you live or die; I know how it ends.
A cigarette for every breath, a kiss for every lie; I can’t revive the times from which we sat along bay-side rocks and climbed across sandbars, hoping for another chance.
It’s like dancing with grenades in our cheeks with our tongues pulling at the seams; I never thought I was so blind.
And those nights when you sit alone,
cold in the undertones,
I hope you picture me sitting in the front seat resting against the dashboard.
Was it worth losing the only sanity granted to you in life? I should have seen this in the beginning.
I won’t be another hypocrite when I say you never that meant much to me anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.