She had the saddest eyes when she smiled, far too sad for someone so young. Still, she smiled sweetly before looking down at the drink in her hand, as if amused by some inanity I'd just uttered, just trying to hold her there for another second. Then she reached up and brushed her hand through my hair, and I was gone, lost, doomed, by the touch of her hand and the sweet smile and the saddest eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem