Our tethers fell dismantled
Into the withering sun
To leave me breathing in the smoke.
As you turned the changes moved
A cadence all their own.
It’s memory stole up my resolve:
Retreating out of solace to be
Disenchanted like a waking dream,
Into an image of your lips.
Swiftly, softly, into the dark,
Everyone leaves eventually…
“And yes”, she pressed “even you”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem