What is it inside that heart of yours?
Could you even call it a heart?
Your heart is not a heart.
It is a cold block of ice resting inside the deep cavity they call a body.
You said you died, but instead that was me dying so slowly, ever so slowly.
I'm Standing out in the snow, cold and gradually getting colder.
Snowflakes fall on my eyelashes... and my heart,
Warm and beating in my chest slows to a stop...
This time i really am gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem