Hit me, push me, hurt me
My dear
Pat me gently,
With your belt
Touch me with your backhand
Kiss me with your screams
Lead me with your blows
Move me with your gentle shoves
Dance with me, as I cower
Our feet flying across the floor
Rhythm of your swing
Beaten into my brain and back
Your shouts- my song
Your breath- so close
Your hold- so tight
Your moves- so rough
Until you’re done
We dance and sway
You kick and guide
I run and turn
And when you are done
With your strange beat
Your singing stops- you leave
And I sit still- and I cry
A beautiful poem ingrained with wishful thoughts...........10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'It is only after one has lost everyting that they begin to see.' -Nagourta