What if, just what if a shy hello would spark a blaze. I stand firm, being. all while I wait for a glace of notice. Her voice like keys and my lust like the moon over her scape. To quench not, I thirst. Before my weary eyes stand alone, you for me and I, the classic fool to believe in dreams. I weep, for a lost love so deep; it crawls out of my bones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem