Your letters are screaming
in my palms
like babies.
I open them and
I feel like I'm opening
your mind.
It's good to know I am
a destination
for someone's letters.
You tell me he
has cheated on you.
I fear the world as almost forgotten
how to make love
like you ought to make love.
I am pretty sure I have given you before
enough reasons to leave him.
I'm not saying you should stop
loving him, but you put too much
meaning in his words.
You said you want us to meet.
I like you there, safe.
I'm afraid
I might harm your lips.
How can I know
I am kissing you right.
After all, I am
a boy. I told you
I never made love.
By coming here
you might just try to
make him jealous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem