this faux pink tousle
holding a pencil eraser
down and limbs in white socks
spread
taunting a liaison that
borders on episodes virtual passion
i will develop you i will make you
a sacred angel
to sanctify the holy hands that
pull the virginal white t over
your bare shoulders and
your rosy cheeks
your lips look new when
were you created your bud featured
as a necessary refinement
i think you are ten in your world
and seven months in mine
either way that cannot
be probable
your small breasts will always remain
still the pink ponytail languishing
forever trapped in your little universe
what does your father think of you?
the quest for you will always
begin tomorrow
if your god should die
a slice of my soul should
go too
green eyed electric wonder
you are quite a revelation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem