He pulled out his soul,
Out of his chest,
Put his arm around its shoulder,
And said all that's creating high tides inside him,
Puked all that in front of him
Grief, Insecurities & how he cheated on himself;
It was nothing less than a confidantjust like he himself is,
It's not a heart break perhaps;
He wanted to breath freely.
Walking through the morning fog, in the boulevard.
Trees bowed down, so that he can whisper in their ears;
All of them acting like his confidants,
But his companion is special today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem