Why does love have to be so hard?
Why can't it be a sending of a card?
Why does love bring such turmoil?
Because to love means to spoil.
You give everything to the one you love,
Your heart, your soul, your favorite gloves.
You bare your soul, only to have it torn,
To be put together again sad and forlorn.
I have been and always will be in love,
I do not care about the stupid gloves.
So to the love of my life here's a hint.
Protect my love it's heaven sent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem