It has been three years, she said,
and I am finally getting better.
It would have been easier, she said,
if he just showed, he was one bit ashamed.
He cheated, she said, and made me feel worthless,
then drove me crazy, saying I was to blame.
It's getting better, she said, as she warmly smiled,
her words her own reminder, her eyes written in pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem