He did not say he loves me.
He loves the way I am.
He loves my voice.
He loves my words.
But he doesn't love me.
And I am me.
And I don't love him.
I love his voice.
I love his words.
He is the way he is.
And I love the way he is.
But who is he?
It does make sense Ronn. When you realize that a person doesn't love you the way you thought they should, you have to realize that maybe they aren't the person you thought they were. And maybe then you're guilty of the same thing.
Maybe it's not a question of who he is, but who he's not. Does that make sense?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ten. Maybe an 11 if they had that number. Loved it.