As always, no A.C,
Hot as hell,
sunshine,
dying.
She,
the one,
my only, beautiful
incredible lover and friend.
How could you do it?
What reason?
why?
Hot,
enchanted,
stupidly amazed, but most of all,
dead.
My thoughts never trust me,
her thoughts never trust me,
trust me,
I no longer exist.
I love the fan,
cools me, better than A.C,
cover my tears.
Someone there,
no longer,
exist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem