i like sitting beside the window feeling tortured by the torrential rain, wishing that it was pounding at my surface, scratching away at my pores.
having bluegrass melodies sweeping up my ears, filling them with banjos and voices as cavernous as the grand canyon
and watching you laying on the carpet, your legs crossed, rolling a cigarette as if you were caressing skin,
being careful as if you were rolling my veins, controlling the blood flow to my heart,
making it swell to burst.
What a great beginning and what a terrible word combination ending it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Chloe, when I started reading, (I will be quite honest) I thought that I was not going to enjoy your poem...then in you came with your wonderful ending. Once you drew the picture of the person on the carpet, you had me hooked. Absolutely loved this to bits.10/10 Regards, Ian