Raw Poetry


It is a contagious disease


Inside of every buses

there are finger prints

of hands

of lovers

on the pipes you hold

to stand straight up

Do you smell

the same smell of the air

reminding you

of early mornings

before work or before school?


this is the song

once were melting

inside our mouths

before or after a kiss

Love is a contagious disease

And you will never know

whether your are getting better

or worse than ever

when you become seized by

or recovered from

“Love”, he said –

“is something,


You may have


Who knows where!?”



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