Making love under the stars
Make these purple wings so familiar
Stammer a preface to your impatient hands
Impaled by my prattle, as a litany of tongues
Imprison my groans, and my ear sleeps
On a bed on your sighs.
Till dawn when sun starts to caress my wishbone
My hair on your shoulder
My thighs asleep on your thighs
Tongues start to desire
And again our soul begin to soar
Together we create something unheard of before
Revealing the same purple wings with glamor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully written! Love this!