tho years have passed since last i felt his breath
upon my neck or gazed his eyes into
or in the throes of passion's 'little death'
surrendered full unto his touch like dew
or morning mists that vanish with the sun.
still something lingers when i reminisce
a ghost not banished, ending left undone.
nor would i have survived if not for this!
if not for this nostalgia all were lost
for memories hold him now tho i cannot
each one upon my spirit is embossed
embroidered on my every waking thought.
so nice some semblance of him should remain!
how like a scar, how like unfaded stain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some just do leave a scar