the heart
has
four
chambers.
which one
do you
keep your love
in, my dear?
i can't
seem to find
it.
your love is a
fraud much like
death, it must be kept
at a distance
at least held off
as long as possible.
i have endured
your crucifixions
in your heart...
the smallest of places.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem