He wants her touch, he wants her hold.
But he can’t have it, he has his own.
He's jealous of every guy she's looked at, even though he can’t stand her presence.
He's jealous of what they used to have, even though he can’t stand this vengeance.
He almost loved her, he thought he did.
He almost had her, but he's happy he didn’t.
And every time he saw her face,
His heart would beat fast off its pace.
And every time he saw her face,
He would think of what they could have had.
He thought she had it all, and surely he was wrong.
But he doubted that he would ever fall, fall for her that long.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem