when you are finished with love
you move out
wearing another dress code
you open the same door
which you have just closed behind
and you leave nothing
except perhaps a little shame and
some regrets
but just the same you are into this
mode of picking up the broken pieces
saying this is love after all
and i shall heave no sigh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem