I had given birth to a lot of poems
but none of them knew my bashful name

I wrapped them in metaphors
to be left in front of some people's doors

I can never be their home
their meanings belong to someone else;
To be the tokens of their existence

I had given birth to a lot of poems
and none of them knew my bashful name
but they all knew what I had once felt

For this one,
The memories of their breath,
forever in my chest.