I did hold on to him tightly
Even when I knew the grip was slipping
I wanted to make myself believe
That it was all a big bad joke.
My heart yearned to touch him
Yet I withdrew when I was so close
I wanted to carry the memory
Pristine, until my grave.
Was it not the right decision
Not to reach out and hurt anymore
While all we did staying close
Was to kill each other again and again?
I caught the brightest star
And kept it hidden in my jewel box
I knew I wronged my star, to
Keep him away from his constellation.
Yet I was selfish, hoping, wishing
That if only I keep it for myself
It will always be mine, forever.
Yet he bled himself through
The small pores in my precious box
Until he was not in it anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem