I care not
if someone pecks
the lipstick from
your lips
you are
just words
and stomach
butterflies.
I make poems
as a joke
for someone
that left
I hope
I write to you.
I've lost the count
of my muses.
Every day I pray
to a new god.
No one seems
to hear
The things
that choke me
I put
on paper
Your tongue
and the tongues
of all the others
are there too.
No one taught me
how to make love.
you are
the only one
that tried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem