Her heart was like the eye of a needle and I the thread.
Stuck between two fingers, each time I'd get close.
I'd veer too far left or too far right, never in-between.
Nervous in motion A thin thread roped in ambition.
Though I loved her deeply I couldn't get her to see.
No matter how hard I'd try I always missed the loop to her heart.
The cold steel that looped in oval shape.
I've made peace with the thought that nothing lasts forever and though thread.
I've binded myself in knots, wondering if she ever saw me the way that I saw her, everlasting.
Believing that we could be woven in the thickest of bonds.
I loved her with the entirety of my everything I had to give.
Without arms I had nothing to hold above her head.
But no matter how many times I missed her.
Her shoulder became colder and colder.
My thread torn seam from seam.
It wasn't until then that I learned that somethings are better left untouched.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kewayne, I like your brave use of an extended metaphor. but some of your expressions are awkward (A thin thread roped in ambition) and undercut the metaphor's power. Maybe you should stop writing for a while and immerse yourself in some good contemporary poetry. That is, if you want to improve as a poet. If you'd like, check out my new webpage: jeffersoncarterverse.com Tell me how you like it. Yrs, JC