I've yet to wash the lipstick off your cup
I keep dreaming any moment you'll pull up
Hoping our days would outshine the night
But you'll never return to my life
A soulless life, wanders in the garden
I still walk across the dirt with caution
As if they're there, they've longed bloomed and died
But Jesus they were pretty while still alive
We had our expectations and we came close
But we still get nothing from almost
Except a couple of wasted years,
Dried blood, sweat, and tears,
and two broken hearts
I still smell your warmth lying on the bed
It chokes me up to see your pillow without your head
I know I've lost you, no fault but my own
So I'll rot away, in the tomb we once called our home
A lifeless soul wanders in our house
Waltz like a ghost, and never goes out
Shouldering the cliff of deep regret
If I live in memories, I might as well be dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
at your age this poem has a great thought. style is enjoyable. vist my blog: rmshanmugam.blospot.com