I watch you as you sleep,
Feel a warming breeze pass your cold, still lips;
An essence of florals, and my eyes affix,
On the bleeding heart draped upon your silk, blue gown.
A string of pearl rosaries intertwine alabaster fingers;
The Crucifix looks down on you with venerating passion;
A single ivory rose finds peace beside your breast;
Reminds me of the one you pressed in that paperback of Poe.
And, oh, those abhorrent catty-cornered torchere lamps,
Juxtaposed and rigid as Buckingham Guards.
You used to say ''Why must parlors insist on their presence? ''
I despise them too, and for you my love, I command their removal.
'Tis nine at night, prayers of closure fade to eerie silence;
I exercise temperence with amorphous expression;
Masking wired nerves, depressed veins in migrain;
Handshakes of pestilence acknowledge unknown faces.
Woke up this morning to the sound of rain, our final day will cry.
Alone now, kneeling before you; so many thoughts, so little time;
Instead, I kiss your powdered cheek, and whisper in your ear:
''l await the day i'll place an ivory rose on you, again''.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem