I thought I had an empty heart,
no love that pumps through my vaines at every heartbeat.
I thought I was hollow,
condemned to feel only pain,
or contain no emotions at all.
I was wrong,
I know the truth,
I feel it.
I can love,
love every inch of you,
and crave your touch.
I was wrong,
now, I feel love,
but without purpose.
The time I have to spend near you is numbered,
I see the moving boxes getting filled,
and my room becoming empty,
and know, that I won't be able to make you love me,
in such a short time.
Oh, I wish it false,
but the airplane tickets are booked,
and soon I will be thousands of miles away,
no hope left for this love.
I am also glad,
glad that in the short period of time I knew you,
I got to spend so close.
Love is, as always, as hurtful as it is beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem