The days are far too short, the slaying of me is such a petty sport.
Too far away on any given day...hearts words spoken in dismay.
This torture that is the end of me, I wait to use those specialist of words...we.
Callipygous, and I wait for that delight...two hands to embrace, they know my plight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
for a joke.- your hands how i wish they were something else your tears how i wish they were something else your love how i wish it is for me