The paper torn and lying next to me
among the others scattered all around
reminded me how fickle love can be
and how a broken promise lets you down
The poems that you wrote had me elated
and now they have been ripped and cast aside
those words that fed my heart, were love related
and fill my mind and soul with so much pride
And now, no words could ever bring the feelings back
the last and final words we spoke, were bland
and the poems that I kept in gilt edged paperback
have been destroyed in loves own velvet hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem