I'd forget about him,
Except...I can't,
I can't forget him,
Or anything about him,
When I close my eyes',
I can remember his scent,
His voice,
As if he was here, right here beside me,
But, then, when I'd reopen my eyes,
To see that he really wasn't there, that it was only a trick, a prank, a horrible illusion, a sick mirage,
Then a fresh burn of pain is in my heart, again...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem