nights;
licked to the very last
remnants of a fiesta,
promises on the floor,
broken beige couches,
left-over notes and
sleepy, swaying clocks
mornings;
can-openers
to yet another present
filled with confetti,
a punch to the gut,
and a little alcohol too;
let's do it again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem