Fingertips bleed
as they trace blood,
around fragile flesh,
and claw their way,
upon a Crimson body.
Angry thrusts of passion,
and kisses,
slapped upon heated limbs,
bites of raw desire,
the pain, and hurt,
surfaces as does,
this bruise.
This sex is angry....
yet I was not the one to aggravate it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really a good write! ! !