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