You do not speak of kisses
Nor speak of my pale lips
You touch not on such topics
And steer far from my hips
Or lack thereof – you do not see
The lines across my brow
When you are gone -
I miss you not- I simply carry on
And yet – when your voice enters
A place that has grown old
It lights my mind with passion
Invokes me to be bold
In time your spirit calls me
It pulls me fast away
And dear now as I fly on
I fall down and I pray
For strength, to be more to you
Than red and heated blood
For feelings are but sentiment
Bold action shows real love
~IW~ From – Idiot Writing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem