THE CURTAIN

 Between you and me is a thick curtain colored by moments lost inadvertently. It's always here, always, in strange colors that paint a bitter dimension. In fact, I can't distinguish it from the pages of your separation. Because of this confusion, I sometimes think it's you.

You stand there behind the curtain, and nothing reaches me from you. Why is this curtain that steals my soul until I lose consciousness? It's a burning veil, and from its redness, I always remember stories of my lost love. I mean, what hides behind the curtain? I really wonder, why did you make this curtain?