Co-written By the lovely Craig Turner;
Like salt with coffee you taste wrong on my tongue
Bitterness falls on those unsung
Like the wise men took the steps I rubbed off the floor
just like the waves battling the shore
So will this magnet attract its opposite?
To feed the fight that we made of it.
Memories float around in bubbles that won’t burst
An empty air that you take in first
A momentary lapse in your one voice conversation
My ears stop listening; all I’m left with is frustration.
Drifting off behind your moving lips,
Watching how our intentions flip
In preparation to open your eyes
A little voice inside subsides
pulling away what’s understood
now I see the chip in the wood
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem