A carriage full of dried moths, faces sour with old leather,
a midnight softness, perhaps a glass in water, slowly,
and you speak of love in the conjunctive,
you would have liked to have known more about me,
but your heart is walled up and full of soot as
roads and fires fly past the windows, they illuminate
half of your face as you speak with care, bloodless and monotone.
You are very reasonable, so sincere, your calm voice as regular as the ticking of wheels on rails, your eyes are railway bells.
But you have a brick in your chest, love`s asthma.
Very emotionally descriptive with the pain of an aching and longing heart. Should 'pass' be 'past'? Great poem. Thank you.
That's a very sad poem. It is very good, though. It is very well thought-out, and it is very thorough in its elements. You do a great job with your poetry. Great job. And thank you for the comment on my poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing it with us. E.K.L.