you hide the shadow of a man
inside your bra
it is not funny your bra bulges like
a bone
someone hides a woman's breast inside
his pants
tits on his pockets like pebbles on the beach
there is something bitchy over there
it is laughing
someone wears a heavily tinted sunglasses
imagination thinks about someone else
hands are traitors too and feet never run away
from a confrontation of lusts
we know we have secrets and we are comfortable with all
these
without the need of telling
why
we understand
we simply want to survive the heat and
the cold
the days that torture us
torture as no more
we love these secrets and of course
these secrets love us too
love begets love
in discreet cold and comfortable places of the heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem