Perfect love,
Perfect trust,
doesn't exist in a world of lust.
old fasioned desires outdated by
foolish games
holding hands means nothing
when you can't remember names.
lips on cheeks,
fingers in hair,
are no longer gestures,
to show you care.
illusions of love,
destroyed by what's real...
teaches us not to trust
what we feel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true. Love is slowy slipping from our hands. Is there really love anymore?