No Man Carries Two Hearts Inside His Chest

I carry two hearts inside.
One is yours.
The other is mine.

I cannot endure two hearts.
A chest should not come with so many parts.

Where all the warriors
Are a foe of the land,
A chest should not be
A borderland.

Where my heart is an ashtray,
Love is a cigarette between my lips—
A blazed craving, short-lived.
Nothing remains
But if’s and butts.

With every puff of smoke,
Your blithe, indifferent soul spoke.
Spreading words merrily
While the green in my eyes burned.
Tears poured
To put out the sadness.

With every flutter of lashes,
I find on the skin
Marks of lashes.

It is painful to blink.
It is impossible not to think.
It seems only in death
I shall rest in ashes.

My chest is a room
With a broken bulb of light.
Inside, it is always night.
Nothing is right.

Do you know what it is like to write—
Using your soul as ink to ignite,
Then for the wind
To blow out every spark of delight?