Serban Raducu Bogdan (7 march 1988)
I won't write of love anymore.
I won't write of you, because I think I've said it all,
and it's becoming unhealthy
this dream of you.
It's already winter and I wouldn't even noticed it,
if it wasn't for these fat people with white beards and red clothes.
Didn't I tell you not to make me fall in love with you!
The last words I write you,
I belive are these.
There are too many men that want you,
for me to fight alone
in this loveless war.
My giants are fighting
but the love you had for your heroes
makes them invincible.
I have swallowed your pain,
I have called you bride,
but it wasn't enough to surpass
the flaws you saw in me.
The world can go to hell,
it was only you that I cared.
And I hope to meet you again someday,
in the world that we deserve,
the world of cloudless love,
where my dreams are more than dreams.
I do love you, but I'm not a begger.
Comments about this poem (11111987 by Serban Raducu Bogdan )
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