Living is hard
But loving is harder
And though it hurts I continue
Like a martyr
Its suicidal but vital
For my existence
Its so persistent no matter
How hard I resist it
Soon he’ll miss it
I’ll no longer be around
Only in spirit
And memory
But I don’t ever want to remember what he did to me
I died slowly that night
Lonely that night
Only to be awaken by my funeral
But where is my rose
In Memory of Rosemary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem