when you look at
arriving late in the house this morning
away from the night
somewhere in another man's room
do not say anything
about my dangling hair
i have no wish combing them
this messy hair
this poorly painted face
a make-up stained with my tears
the red lipstick misplaced in my pelvis
marks of my rebellion
do not say anything yet
i am preparing my words
for you.
let me begin with: i am tired.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice write. It is very well written.