Your smile flicks a switch
that keeps me up at night.
Though the walls and air are black in here
my mind still holds your sight.
A narcoleptic mind sleeping only some
sifting through the beauty
knowing soon bad thoughts will come.
I can touch the smooth surface of the page
pretending it's a cheek
leading to a smile with lips I'd like to eat.
With every second eaten
by the littler hand and big
the ticking and the tolking
could drive a man to drink.
Like those before me I've tipped a glass
and smiles turn to frowns
to try and tip it back again I drink another round.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem