i do think of you sometimes.
there, accross so much water.
it's strange to think that you loved me
my pink face.
i didn't love you
the eyes you wanted me to read the answers from.
is this okay?
your guitar pick sits sadly that you left me
i don't miss you.
i don't think of you
each time i see the blue eye when i walk into that house
taking all the bad thoughts away,
into itself until it shatters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem