Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Thursday 19 January 2012

From: A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor by Maram Al-Massri

You should not
have touched my hand
and left it dreaming
of your touch.

You should not
have kissed my lips
and left them burning
for your muffling caress.

You should have
remained quiet
so that I would not stop
hoping.
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