A Short Translation

Hello and goodbye

Are two words that are

not a description that would say the facts behind your glazed eyes

or the slippery heart in my hands.

To say goodbye would mean that's it's all good.

Or if I say farewell, I would be saying that you're all good.

But that's not true.

I'm standing on the ground you sleep in.

Waiting for your chest to rise once more.

It never will be a good-bye.

And bye is too short to say it.

I'll just add a few more flowers to make up for

each syllabus lost in translation.

A field of dahlias.

Nola_hall

WA

13 years old

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    Far too often the piles cascade too high

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    even though I chose each object,

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  • Poetry

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    it does not heal the wounded 

    my words are costume, foam steel at most.

     

    I exist to live a life that continues the cycle

    I'm a mirror of society that has painted

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