I write poetry like i make love
The mood comes to swing
And my pen start digging
Emotions are purged
But first
My skin is aware of how poetry has taken a hold of me
So sometimes i think it's charm
I breath
I exhale
I feel love and start spilling inks on dangerous papers
The mood is constant
And my pen is always ready to dig
I mean dig into thoughts
I write poetry like i make love
The feeling is weird
Like communicating with rain
I sometimes stumble into this and write pleasure down my palms
I only make love to the paper before me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem