But do they know how
to craft fiction? Do
they know how to spin
lies?
His eyes swear forever,
flatter with vows of only
me. But are they empty
promises?
I stare into his eyes, as
into a crystal ball, but
I cannot find forever,
only
movies of yesterday,
a sketch book of today,
dreams of shared
tomarrow
His eyes whisper secrets.
But are they truths or fairytales?
I wonder if even he
knows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem