Report, if you have a problem with this page“ You askif I will write a poemI could,I supposewrite the mostsplendiferousone of allbut notrightnownot whenyour handsare brewingwarmcinnamon teaacross my skinnot when I’mtrying to imaginewhat might happenif you beganfloweringkissesuponmeMy dear,how canI writea poemwhen I’m alreadyinside one? ”
Sanober Khan
From : A Thousand Flamingos
