It is true,
I do not hate you,
Hate, as they say,
Is a strong word,
Malevolent,
Like a sword,
Blunt,
Uncaring.
And I do not have strong feelings for you,
Not anymore.
I do not care.
No longer,
Will I stare,
At photographs,
Secretly obscene,
Bleeding ink,
All taken by me.
I will not remember,
The way I tilted my head,
Just so,
Or stretched up,
On my toes,
To reach your lips.
To steal a kiss,
Because that’s what it always was,
Stealing.
And I,
I was such a pretty thief.
But no longer,
Now I have something I do not have to steal.
I am sure you find my coldness sharp,
Blunt,
Unkind,
But you were never mine.
I stole you.
But She can have you back,
The shadow of a girl,
Who looks so much like me,
She can steal you now,
Try to pry you away,
From the ghosts of our sweet past,
Stealing you,
From my memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hauntingly beautiful poem. You have an amazing gift. Thank you for sharing it with us.