the heart
you can have it, its no longer mine
its been stained and slashed to oblivion
deformed beyond recognition.
my irrational fears forming scars
where once there was open sky.
but my mind,
my precious mind
I want that back.
if only to erase your tone and pitch from my soul
but still,
you won't leave me to dance alone
or argue or sing, cry, even eat.
You sit at the table next to my half-eaten slice
of bread, your cup of tea whispering in my ear
until the ceiling weeps and the solitary walls
slap my empty corpse for the decisons I should
have made and the man I couldn't have been.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a wonderful work, I even like the format. Lines without capitalization even work in this poem. Read mine - Who Am I - Adeline