have had many
Loves of my life.
Some dark, one light
And some I don’t remember.
Each I loved
And thought I’d never
Love another, I
Was wrong.
Each brought me pain
Of separation, of a sense
Of not being Enough, yet
In each, a gift, unasked for.
Love unfinished, undivided
Unseparated, unwanted.
An honest end is better than
A false beginning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem