Creamy as fog
rolling down a mountain
fear, the permanent resident
of the attic of my mind,
descends through the layers
staring at my scars
Deranged by my solitude
I become completely dismantled
(only occasionally)
I move vertically
through my emotions
capture the oxidized
wanting of you
Eyes hazel question marks
I search loud spaces, silent spaces
I feel as if I shall not get old
my yearning skin doesn't know time
Hidden like a fist from a hand
you're standing on the opposite wall
looking at me
With a supreme sense of certainty
I know you're there
It is a good day to drown in love
If only you would wash ashore
and save us both the trouble.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem