The self-destructive woman
An archetype I know
Too well to meet again
I would not touch her
Whilst holding my heart
For she may distract me
With her mysterious beauty
And borrow it for years
I do not have to spare
I can almost see it
Another twist of her wrist
And I am bleeding again
Not from my current body
But from the piece of me
That she clutches, not holds
In those hands she would once
Blemish herself with, she now
Has decided to venture
Beyond what she is familiar with
And so I stay here, across from
What I would call her lair
Safe in my own what-ifs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For auld lang syne you will take a cup of kindness yet Es una senial humana Quando las cosas van mal Y la tentacion es fuerte En el leivite A very strong perception of human mind here reminding me of an old scottish song not so famous of the 16th century and some spanish verses.It says about the other side of beauty and its perception.Ophelia is a rememberance of a poetess.Not just a poem.I hope readers will borrow it over years.