Her Birthday

Forgotten calendar tells me
today is her birthday.
A trace I couldn’t erase still
follows me like a hungry puppy.

Because of the incomplete night together,
her love she couldn’t confess
is buried on the threshold of the winter
just like a drop of water hanging
from an autumn leaf hanging
from a naked tree.

Her present wrapped lovely
Is stuck in my deep memory
without even being unwrapped.

I can’t find the look of
our love that couldn’t build a castle.
Perhaps it became ash called longing and
Was scattered on the river called sorrow?

Erase this dim trace,
Smash the castle that’s been suspended,
Throw the unwrapped present in the trash can.

She who hated the cold….
Where should I dump my mind that
wanted to make her warm?

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