If their skin is sun-kissed,
Then mine is sun-loved,
Like the sun bathed me in its ecstasy,
Like it knitted his pattern,
Dark, deep admiration into the bridge of my nose,
Like he spilled the dust of decades of euphoria onto my freckled cheek,
And then kissed them into permanent,
Like tales of our late nights are inscribed in the stretch of my ebony neck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem