When you wake up in the middle of the night with longing for her, with tender fire for her, was burning sincere emotional desire for her in your soul.
Time and space just meltaway.
You're left with nothing but pure desire in your truth.
You cry out for her warping time.
It's more real than a touch, them a hug, than your pride, then your notions of right and wrong, good and bad/
Far apart emotionally, divided by distortions of your upbringing, and the manipulations a so-called friends, but closer to you than you are to your self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem