Pull the red string tight against my wind pipe,
Witness the blood as it slithers away from me,
And lend your ear to attest to my hearts rallentando beat.
Wonder at my gown, my niveous being.
A doll could die of envy,
But that wouldn't be the cause for a gurney.
The doctor knew we'd taken our time:
To hold, to love, and to say goodbye.
The gleed of passion gone from our eyes.
The knot we tied had its toll.
Till death do us part we'd been told,
And it's expensive to break its hold.
Many years, many folds, many stories untold.
Many a day, many a night before I choked.
A ring around my finger, a ring around my throat.
You cared enough to pack my bags.
You grabbed me by the hand, dragged me by the crux;
This marriage was the death of us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem