Ive got
cursive hips
and inky lips
Cause I'm
fully illustrated
The antonym
of my true state
Jotting kisses
Scrawling caresses
Thrusting verses
By far poetry
has a way of
fooling lustful
hearts
So blindly
we move
to become
one's art
On a canvas
of make-believe
I have reached
this last ending
of the words
that bleed
onto my skin
Staining my fingers black
and swirling in the
blue like Jazz
By Samantha Campbell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem