I can advocate "love, " until eardrums burst and bleed.
Until your heart is a red pomegranate seed squeezed?
But it's like flailing a Dead Sea monster into life
hoping a tide will rise and resurrect the long-dead
and carry them offshore to a recuperation chamber.
And like a pearl in some gothic housed splendour
or a seahorse chanting at the bit, you'll rediscover it
once-again for a split second only, find tears to cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well... I had to read this one just because of the title. Interesting images you've created here! Dead sea monsters, and seahorses, eardrums bursting and bleeding like pomegranate seeds. Love all the high drama you created as it fits your theme. What do you do to spice up a dying love? It can take allot! Thanks Mark.