It is him who wakes me,
Pushing through my sleep.
Our sliding bodies wrestle together
as into the daylight, we atempt to creep.
Our tongues become hot, in our struggle to speak faster,
Our skin is prickled with a blessed fever
As we wish the hours were longer.
The sky bursts and shrieks
And we shout back until our lungs break.
As the earth spins it swells and the heat drenches us with madness.
We want so much more than we can take.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Millie, I call my self a poet, but I've been reading through yours and I can not get near your honesty, imagery and the beauty you convey, its like your putting your thoughts and feelings splendidly on a plate and it would win masterchef 2013. Thank you such a pleasure to read these :) x