Much Like A Toothache Poem by Irina Minaeva
Much Like A Toothache
Your lanky figure at my door,
Bright eyes and spilling hair...
Can all it be the reason for
My joy and black despair?
You were so quick to disappear
I could make nothing out.
You've power over me — it's queer,
But there's not any doubt.
I can't change anything, but still
I wish it were not so.
A strange sensation: warmth and thrill.
Much like a toothache, though.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:01:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I agree: Wow is the word. This is good. Read mine - Indebted - Adeline