My melancholy was gold dust in your hands;
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied
How much sweet torture quietly suffered,
When, my soul wrested with shadowy sadness,
She who knows the tricks, I passed the days
kissing the two hands that stifled my life
Sweet Torture
Alfonsina Storni
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Poem topics: soul, sweet, long, gold, dust, life, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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