She asked me why I kept my head down
The love confessions on the road
carved by the townspeople
were for her, not for me
The glare of the world would blind me
if I looked up
I could hear the scream in my head
my fingers ready to gouge out
my own shadow
She smiled and laughed
painting the town pink
with her lips and cheeks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem