You’re walking in a long, deep corridor.
No windows or doors around. The light comes from above.
You keep walking forward.

Hanging on the walls, coloured pictures you drew as a child.
Undefined lines and shapes in a language you can’t be certain if you understand
or if you ever did.
They are moving as you move,
the floor is changing forms.

A sticky material comes out of your body.
The place smells rotten.
You are afraid, but you are still walking.

She will come, and She will take your hand.
You will hold Hers, tight. She will listen to your breathing.
It’s fast, and sharp.

Your hands are sweaty. You tighten your grip in Hers.
You feel ashamed.
You let your hands slip and your palm escapes its shield.

You are alone. Naked.
Her presence reminds you of your loneliness.

She turns her head to face you – Oh Lord! How beautiful She is.

Her eyes looking somewhere behind you.
“The Lady, she has been waiting for you”, She finally says and leaves towards the Light.

She belongs to the Light.
The Light belongs to Her.
She disappears.

You are walking in a long, deep corridor.
There are no Lights.
A sticky material comes out of your body, glowing in the dark.

Your hands are sweaty. They are searching for Hers.

The Lady; She has been waiting.

(took my shot in translating something I wrote back in 2013)

i still carry your poem in my bag
everywhere i go –

sometimes it almost falls from the pages of my notebook and i see the corners creeping from the back

i don’t throw it away
although i thought of burning it far too many times

i told you it’s yours to do it whatever you want
but you never told me what to do with it –
as you never told me what to do with myself

so i will keep it

and carry it with me

as i carry you

every day

in my heart.

boop

I lay all the things I hate about you on a line.
Your indecisiveness, your way of dealing with the things you’re scared of.
The way you treated me when I was most vulnerable.
Your reading repulsion.

I looked at them, then looked at you.

Laughing, I imagined booping your nose.
I’d put up with anything.
Just for that boop.

i woke up today thinking i should cut my hair.

last time i got a haircut you gave me the first butterflies, and then we got married by the lake, my silver hair shining under the sun, your flower crown highlighting your beautiful face – our souls dancing in a non-existent place.

i was happy, you were too.

cutting my hair will ache this time,

as i’ll be cutting a part of me that, if only for a second, existed with you.