in my own hands
there is a way to touch
that makes me
forget you,
you never loved me
my hands confess
my hands profess this
unfairness
in my own hands there is
a door that opens
to another place of my heart
there is a lake with white swans
all singing the swan song
of love's untimely demise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem