He lays next to me
I know the slope of his neck
the bulge of his arm
and the valley between his shoulder blades
He sleeps next to me
I know that his breathing slows
and his muscles twitch
and his body becomes heavy
I wake up next to him
I know his smell and his touch
his full mouth that covered my body
and whispered words that commanded me
He lays next to me
I know him not
in the morning light he is a stranger
all I know is the sound of his footsteps as he leaves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In the light of morning, the passionate pulse fades, and so often the face we saw by moo light, appears now, a stranger in the sun...Your write is bittersweet in it's fine construction. I will continue to explore your poetry, and invite you I to mine. PEACE