Your heart is a sheet of cold, thin ice;
Spider cracks zigzag among open veins;
Eggshells scatter before my footsteps;
On my toes, I step between the cracks and crush the eggshells with my heels.
I peel away onionskin layers of you;
Vaporous particles explode into my eyes;
They stick to fingers and leave them numb;
With steel razor taut in my fist, I scrape the flecks of you away.
Stubborn remnants resist the rusty blade;
I ignore the flowing, spreading pool;
Pieces of you flail screaming in the crimson fluid;
The nightmare of our union fills my pounding head with boiling blood.
Tentacles of you die, then regenerate;
Lashing out, they wrap around my limbs;
I am helpless, tight-bound in your suction grip;
In the mirror, my reflection; I lather and shave the stubble away.
Writers Envy 
I think I’ve met this woman before….I may be her! Yikes!
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Because poetry is Figurative expression, it is very difficult to me.
But, if I can enjoy “Feeling = poetry” by language other than Japanese,
My life will be more enjoyable! !
I will do my best! ! š
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Because so much of poetry depends on choice of word, it can be difficult to understand for those whose first language is not English. I love how compact but full of expression the Haiku can be; I know that some meaning is lost in translation and that makes me sad.
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Reblogged this on Anna Dobritt — Author.
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