It’s a soft-teased plaster,
leaving puckered skin kisses
every rip of the way.
And the puce blemish
raw with weeping bade farewell
Seams submitting to the tear
and cupid’s cell.
In zipping screams, with flesh-stripped,
virgin and borne
prey to every whisper’d wind
and furrowed scorn.
And in the welt dwell’st a bruise
of ashen base and bluish hue.
Piercing rent the slumber sweet
It’s eyes are you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem