From Window Pane To Pain
A poem
Published in
Jun 14, 2024
On winter mornings
my nape misses your warm breaths
like a mirror steam.
Whatever you wrote on me,
please come back and wipe it clean.
I’m tired of feeling like wearing your calligraphy.
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American-Italian-Peruvian poet, ghostwriter, copywriter, politician, and journalist. Open for freelance jobs. Published 7 books; 7 more on the way.