i sleep in your bed,
where other women have undoubtedly,
twisted beneath your hips,
there lips still haunt the mattress,
like cuts,
n i wonder,
what pieces of me
will be left behind here?
a hand/
clutching the mattress?
or feet, curled toes,
or will it be,
that my smile shall leave itself,
no different then the rest.........................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem