She moves like dusk-
soft edges dissolving into the night,
whispers caught between the spaces
of silence.
Her eyes, twin eclipses,
pulling me inward,
a tide I cannot resist,
a storm I do not wish to escape.
I search for meaning in her absence,
trace constellations on her skin,
but she is a language
without translation,
a poem without rhyme.
I am lost within her,
not wanting to be found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem