I watch your face while you sleep,
memorising the beauty of your words,
the touch of your sweaty body astounds me,
the more happiness that surrounds me,
but you being my man so apart,
my single touch of finger bothers you.
I provided you the love when you needed,
but you treat me as an unknown.
When solitude around, I think of you,
drops of wax still attached to my hands,
who’re by my side when you’re not there,
my love spalattered in poems,
my touch splattered in poems,
the companion follow me as shadow,
they let me love them, but you not,
they let me feel them, but you not.
The more contented I feel, rather,
your behaviour towards me,
I only words I need to tell you now,
“Thank you for not letting me love you,
Thank you for not letting me feel you.
But thank you a lot for letting,
my poems come near to me.”
