she makes a mistake
having loved my poem
than myself,
she arrives at this
that i am more real there
than what i am
she loves making love
with the words
rather than my body
my torso she sets aside
my poems
the arms and legs
my metaphor the best
tongue ever
that licked the bare
shoulders of her soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem