This morning there’s empty glasses
with the smell of St. Anna
standing on the table.
The long right-angle candle still flickers
as a sole witness
and its as if your scent
is still clinging to my body
and I remember your tongue
that twisted round mine
and how big your eyes looked
in the candlelight
how pretty your hairless labia
looked this morning
while your hand was stroking
over the hairs at my sex,
how you folded open like a flower
and how we melted into each other
when I exploded in you
and heard your heart beating faintly
and now that you are
back at home again
and I have to do my thing here,
are you still remembering
this morning and last night?
And when the sun sets tonight
will you then also think of me
and will you heart
still gambol?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem