I thought my poetry was uniquely charming,
She might have thought it strangely alarming.
Now I am lost in my mind reminiscing,
Over memories of the last 3 I was kissing.
Instantly my stomach and spirits drop,
My heart now on the guillotine's chopping block.
The years, they never slow, instead they fly:
My eyes, oftenest dry, sometimes leak and cry.
My burning tears are constantly falling,
Into the endless void with 3 names I am calling,
Calling and crying, while hurting and hoping,
That one day tears lead to better coping.
Nay, not only that, but also spontaneous eloping,
Reunited lovers whose film's redeveloping,
Is piquant and sure like the flowers are in May,
So shalt thou be if to you "I love you" I say.
O God, can one of the 3 return, if I write poetry and pray?
For my heart is thoroughly broken, battered, and bruised inside me today.
Love, when it goes wrong, is the most painful thing in the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It always goes wrong