I still remember,
That sweet November,
The taste of your lips,
No-one can eclipse,
Nor the strength of your embrace,
Would I replace.
It all soon came to an end,
And now, indifference I have to pretend.
An act of passion,
Which shed no compassion,
A hopeless admiration,
Utter desperation.
We’re now but friends,
For your trust I make amends,
To fate I plea,
That you would even look at me,
But such indifference,
Makes so much difference!
My feelings untouched remain,
In spite all the pain.
I could really care less,
If you for me ever caressed,
Or if you were true,
In your unspoken adieu.
Even if you were fake,
For you I ache.
Life goes on,
Even now, that hope is gone,
For you I’ll always care,
To your eyes, none can compare.
My lesson I’ve learnt
In my heart it has been burnt.
I’ll meet you now and again,
Wretchedly insane,
Between songs of death,
The smell of your breath,
Your love I desire,
With my heart on fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
excellent rhythm & flow. a bit cliche at certain lines 'even if you were fake, for you i ache, ' however very good cadence. best care, susan jane