It’s not
your hair blown across my face
emeshing me
in your kiss
your laughter scattered to the four winds.
It’s not
your breasts
so soft & tender
pressed nakedly against my clothed chest
& then
I too undressed.
It’s not
your body
becoming mine
as I become yours
...it’s just...it’s just...
(oh I don’t know!)
words desert me as I close my eyes!
It’s not
just this bliss
I enter
...it’s just...it’s just...
just this
youness of you
...that I...that I...
Words to comment this desert me, too - silence pregnant with meaning...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's not.. well, let me say, it isn't just the... well maybe it's just...YOU? Well not said?