From me to you,
came a thousand calls,
till I cant call no more.
Been waiting,
on the phone to ring,
and your voice to speak,
music to my ear.
A thousand texts,
from me to you,
in plain letters,
my heart I bare,
but in between the lines,
you never read.
At every text I jump,
thinking it was you,
wishing it was you.
Did I miss a signal?
a subtle massage in your smile?
I re-live every word you said,
every little thing you did,
looking for a green,
a light,
just a speck of it.
Wishing you felt,
the same way I did,
and have me not misunderstood.
Am thrilled by the chase of you,
anticipating you be my catch,
cautiously daring denial,
secretly expecting you to make the first move,
a quest in vain.
I can no longer face the mirror,
knowing you will never see,
what I wished you to see.
You looked past through me,
as if I never was there,
a transparent glass.
Now I cant call you no more,
am not over you, no.
I still relate to a song of a heartache,
watching you in the arms of another,
making me feel so replaceable,
it hurts to be in love alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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