My mobilical cord, still attached to your flawless white skin,
soft as a powdered petal belonging to the first rose that I offered you along with a hug and a kiss,
I try to sever with an ax as wide as the moon
and madly sharpened to extreme
by the indifference that is your coat today.
Visiting my collection of memories of you,
with a shovel of stainless bravery,
I dug a hole for every kiss given or recieved,
that seeded the hugs and hand holdings,
that enslave my soul today
to this unflinching rock of a love.
You were wrong to leave me
for the barbarous hug of another,
so wrong, for someday I'll find the words
that will make you love me again,
but I promise you:
we will never be one, even if you cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem