my phone buzzes louder than an African bee
and its sting hurts more than a jelly fish.
the sun burps
in my face
and tells me I'm in last place again,
but I know it's jealous of my time
with Tom.
he told me he loved me in a hot air balloon
three days after the county fair
and my hair was down that day, dirty and daring
in the wind.
he took my hand like I was the last girl left
and proposed we played checkers
a million feet above the ground
the sound of traffic ringing in my ears
as he jumped me three times
and told me I was beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem