Sitting here alone, my heart bursting free,
As i wait for the phone to ring:
To give me the sign that i implore,
To show that you really care.
Suddenly, the phone rings in the silence,
Sending shivers up my spine.
'We need to talk' i hear you say,
The dreaded words i hate.
'It's not you, its me! ' you say:
If that were true,
Why is it always me sitting here,
Waiting for your call?
I don't cry for you, i cry for loss:
Same old, same old:
My heart is torn into shreds,
Nearly every day.
I cry for the past, i cry for you,
I cry when my friends cry;
I cry for death, i cry for life,
I cry with love:
Love of the lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem