Shame has overwhelmed me,
like a mucous film between
me and reality.

Feelings came to the light,
eight years old, and now dead...
long ago on our way, we helped each other...
kindness was then massing, quasi in stack.

We were broken like old bones,
though we were packed with youngness:
life was the aim, one common, eternal and pleasant,
but one rupture has sealed and other ones just deepened.

An era has ended,
there was no windup.
Light had escaped our mutual darkness.
We were also guileful,
one coward, the other deceitful,
but some moments still stab me in the heart, once in a while.

As I've become a new man,
someone else brought me further ahead,
we found the common ground
and the bliss-spark growing into a blazing light.

Yet, sometimes on my neck, it's sitting...
the mucous shame is sardonically laughing at me.