Part I: What Was
One moment leaves me, and another arrives.
This cycle cleaving to me claims our pure lives —
Another second and I’ll be in a dream.
A third phase unfolds, when I'll split at our seams.
So bright and thin, they hold us tightly within —
A bond of love, 'bove the things that cause our sin.
Around you is the only place for my arm,
There’s no room else, for this wound could cause you harm
When I press my palm to your shoulder, I thrive.
After an hour I’ll want you as my wife.
Part II: Present
Our wound binds us; fixed, we are stitched closely.
To tear you apart would be the death of me.
Another moment flees away. Holding you
Never seems to satisfy my creed as true.
Don’t pull or hold yourself from me in my seed
I feel need for more; don’t blame me when I bleed
I’m fastened into you; I’m a part of you
Your life gives me much growth; your strife kills us both.
These strings: roots of a tree with many an arm.
I’m cancer in your heart; your cells are my charm.
Feed me your body; don’t starve me for your joy.
In the end, when I’m gone, it’s us you've destroyed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem