We read a piece by Goren Sonnevi
And at the end,
She started to weep.
Instantly
That was what I craved.
Such prowess
I've made girls cry -
I never felt so weak.
I want to touch like fingertips
Rather than worded fists.
To cry, to weep
Like to sleep, to die
Words like hand rolled cigarettes
The slowest of burns
This is where we need great care