Serban Raducu Bogdan (7 march 1988)
Wingless, Because Of You
When I write you, I mostly dream.
I do not live, like others do.
Ah! My dear November
how many dreams of mine
are wingless because of you,
I can't even count that far.
you wanted me to love you
and I did.
Now you've changed,
and you don't want me to love you,
but I can't do that anymore.
Why do you belive that I'm like a flower
that you can throw when it whiters,
when it's in your heart, the love that whitered?
Comments about this poem (Wingless, Because Of You by Serban Raducu Bogdan )
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