I am left, a buck poor
I pondered-
When will you be mine
When will you tell me
.
You are coming back-
You are reuniting with him
Yet, you are coming back
.
To me, you said.
To the bookstores, the shelves
That stacks a few sweet mem'ries.
.
I am stupid, that's what you think
I am weak - vulnerable against you.
Your wicked schemes- I fall. Fell
Yearning to be vulnerable, again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem