Love poems he used to write
And then she said goodbye
That didn't stop him from writing
Only from writing love poems
Work that was once joyful
Became sad, lonely, and bitter
Just like the author himself
Pain spilling out onto the page
Now, his tears are his poetry
And he's written thousands
With each he's getting better
Maybe one day, he'll try again
At open readings, he once rejoiced
In reading about his woman, his love
The audience feeling the love would smile
Now they are wiping away their tears
How ironic, a brokenhearted love poet
Still trying to write love poems
But without her, his inspiration
Thew words are just out of reach
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem