Slowly dying
waiting for you-
breathing less and less
as you walk by.
My heart melting
at the touch of your hand
you smile
and death draws near.
What makes me
love you?
want you?
crave you?
There you are
down the hall
You see me
and come running.
Your arms are open
My heart is broken
You say, 'I love you'...
Too late.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem