Lost. Poem by Matthew English
Lost.
I can’t sleep;
knowing you’re in his arms,
wrapped in his covers,
trapped in his spell.
Tears run down my cheek;
knowing you're passed out on his floor,
eyes glazed, reaching for the door,
dominated by his charm.
The whisky trickles down my throat;
trying to forget your dreaded fate,
as your mind is dead to the world,
sharing his comatose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 6:58:45 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
