She asked if I was tired,
I said I wasn't
I lied.
Loving you is tiring.
I see your face,
My heart sings each time I do.
But your smile,
It hangs there
And your voice,
That sweet melodious voice
It's not in the air.
I am a fast runner,
But I couldn't catch you.
My arms they're fast,
They weren't able to embrace you.
My voice, it's loud,
Why can't you hear me?
And when I am able to,
The play ends.
A play ticketed by time.
The priceless luxury which is restored every night.
What pain is a sore eye
When your face is plastered on mine?
Closing it hurts so bad
Because I know how the play ends,
Waking up into just another day without you.
Each time I lay on my bed I try
To talk to God
Although the urge to think about you is so heavy.
I end up praying for you.
And that is when the play begins
All over again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem