Forehead Poem by Alex Insuratelu
Forehead
I kiss your forehead?
Perspiration that smells
Lemon, waiting of a silver
message to be hunted
Exits silently from existance
and what else it deserved
Few of us are waiting too
our bad taste to get good
so we can start again from
warmness of our humour
Young droplets of rain
and a bitter lament for
the colored witches
wispering for a little lip
crypt or bluff?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/3/2024 1:09:39 PM # 1.0.0.1119
