My pale blue fingers cannot grasp
The coolness of my soul
Or hold the gut feeling I have
For you. They cannot trace
The adumbration of my lust
To the point where my fears begin.
They can only touch your skin
And with their pads whiten
In patches the blueness found in you,
Always that engrained reserve, stifling you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem