love
such a dead-end
first-stop street
of impressions
ideas
of desire, thin
as empathy, the
self another to
meet your fear.
I want to dream
and know it’s nothing but
what else
save God
could there be?
Touch
so transient, one day
the next.
Aftermath of misery
Nil by memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem