Tears like charcoal roll down my cheeks,
To fill my mouth with their black salt.
They rot out my teeth, and jaw, and make my tongue taste like ash inside my mouth.
Yet with black lips and smeared eyes,
You still love me with enough passion I could kill.
You kiss and taste my cigarette mouth and consume my ashy lips with your honey tongue.
Beautiful, thick, amber honey seeps between my teeth and down my throat,
To fill my heart and soul with gold and relieve me of my black curse...
If only for a night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem