Do you think milk?
The medicine,
had already become
a bromide.
One benign question,
opened the potential
of conflict. The fan-
tasy? Golden knife?
Devastating me. Car-
essing the dark, did
you stop by the moon
to say hello?
Unmasking the secret―
of immortality? Ephebic.
You were always lying
to yourself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem