Silken water
Draped across my tongue

Its bitter core
Its rotten flesh
Stops me from saying

"Je vous adore mon beau,
Plus que vous saura jamais .
Je veux que vous soyez miens,
Pour toujours."

This fountain breaths no life

Author note: This was a little challenge I set myself, to write a poem with restrictions. I set some with the use of a random choice and some were set for me. The total was 6 being:

No more than 7 syllabels a line
No caffine drank the days I write the poem
A non-english stanza
No questions
To include a taste/food idea
Have no two stanzas of the same number of lines but retain flowin the work.

I do apologise for my translation, please inform me if it is incorrect or makes no sense.


Nine Iron