Serban Raducu Bogdan (7 march 1988)
A Clown's Christmas
Plucking my heroine's wings with their ruthless pliers,
the world undresses her heart of love
like an insane sun that burns a delicate flower.
In the room of the mute people
they eternaly jail me, so I cannot love her anymore,
with letters and words.
Her skin they paint in a dozen shades of mud
while their lips massacrate her lips
in their loveless carnal desires.
I scribble the walls of my heart
with unheard emotions of passion
that depict her, in her worst day,
exquisite and rare, as the freckled and white moon,
and I unleash my fists against the hated men of her past.
Too bad she's not here to see this brave part of me
Comments about this poem (A Clown's Christmas by Serban Raducu Bogdan )
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