Twisted and churning, my blood will cease,
My spiked and brittle organ has slown it's pace,
(There's nothing but a dull throb)
Working like sap through my veins,
Then stopping at my arms.
My hands are numb and purple,
My lips a livid blue,
As dark as the blackened center of my eye
With slight red blush; deepening crimson mouth,
The last liquid tendrils of my love, dripping down my sodden chin.
With my blood, my love has drawn free from me,
Causing me such chaos; magnificent and pure,
The pain lives inside (lives for you)
Never to let me love henceforth,
Not until you are gone and my heart is replenished,
Liv-ed with everyone else's blood,
I won't and can't love You;
Yet I live just to love, and I will
In time, with strength,
Tomorrow. My wicked love for you will wither
And cease, so I can love again, and die twice more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is truly amazing! it has so much detail and emotion. this puts me in a state of heart-wrenching disire to love once more, and to keep loving no matter how many times my heart stops.