my hand is still wet.
our mixture of sweat.
been holding so long.
lost humming our song.
then you slid out: bold.
and left my hand cold.
the wind ate away
the hand which that day
had held yours so tight.
you still took your flight
from the hand which was closed
and now is exposed
BUT...I WILL NOT HANDCUFF
CULTURE DOES ENOUGH.
AND...I WILL NOT MAKE YOU
LOVE ME LIKE I LOVE YOU.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the last four lines change the mood so much that i myself could feel your emotions. spectacular.