MAYBE on the lips? Because there I like to interpret bitterness.
Or on the arm? A pair that is not long enough, but enough
to always embrace, dim, nervous.
Or on the neck? The circular ladder, like a rubber tree, and
I was a tapper who could not bring heart to wound there.
Or on the forehead? A thin line of hair, always silent.
"Ah, do not have much guessing," you say, "let me read it,
The old verses of poetry, which I have always kept secret ...
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 6:02 AM UTC
MAYBE on the lips? Because there I like to interpret bitterness.
Or on the arm? A pair that is not long enough, but enough
to always embrace, dim, nervous.
Or on the neck? The circular ladder, like a rubber tree, and
I was a tapper who could not bring heart to wound there.
Or on the forehead? A thin line of hair, always silent.
"Ah, do not have much guessing," you say, "let me read it,
The old verses of poetry, which I have always kept secret ...
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