trying to writing a poem after long
is like trying to feel a new person's touch
decades after your lover died
the words seem like sandpaper on my tongue
nervous grating rubbing of unfamiliar love
clashing with a new body on a hard bed
like speaking an unfamiliar langauge
after just three four beginner's classes
to the director of the foreign language school
how do you whisper sweet nothings
in the brink of rush of love
holding close in breathing distance
a total stranger
when a multitude of words rush from the stomach
traffic jamming your crushed throat
the mouth gapes slackly.
no exit.
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1 comment:
Hmmm....PINK Blog...nice to see we will be gifted with the opportunity to read your work as it is developed. Hmm...what goes on in the mind of the red polka chaddi...can't wait to find out...
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