Eye strokes
A brush on canvas
Spreading colours and shades.
Gentle,
Firm pushes
That belie an intimacy
Among strangers.
Whispers
Caressing and arousing
Pull closer the subject to intention.
Acrid
A fetid aroma wafts
Around decaying flesh, yet youthful, still.
Rough taste
Sour on the tongue
A texture that burns the breath.
In the comfort of a hotel room
I paint the body of a lover,
Paid
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem