too much light kills me
i could be some sort of a fungus
thriving beneath a cave
where the dripping of sorrow
the wetness of tears
makes me grow
it is hard to be visible to your light
and so here i am in the greyness of my season
in dampness of my existence
in the silence of my longing
i could have touched your skin
but i know what happens next
i know it
i am not ready to dissolve and be gone
forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem