I remember mornings like this
drawn curtains in a shadowless room
bodies entwined and dreamless
disposable lovers
temporary
soothing as a band aid on a broken bone
Wine drenched memories
and a longing to forget
the common ground they danced on
a found intamacy
greedily snatched like stale candy from a bowl
sticky and grainy
with only a hint of long lost sweetness
Ghosts move behind them in the candle glow
nothing really dies;
The heart has a conjuring memory-
and mornings like these....
haunted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem