Love is dead
When you desire to touch
its body
When there is no love
you need to defeat a body.
When your finger crawl
into the cleavage
love disappears like
that story teller bird.
You should not forget
breasts or cleavage are not love
You may smash them
you may conquer them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem