I don't ever want to see you again, I don't ever want to wait for hours in the pouring rain.
Lack of love still blinding, yet its better than only you that im minding.
Those nights when I couldn't write and I weeped. All you could say was how trashy my family was.
I feel like a martyr in an aquarium, chasing bubbles behind your delicate tail.
Oh tell me I'm but a Hemingway tale
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem