Withered Poem by Jorge Arturo Valles Anguiano

The roses had become withered roses,
as my heart has become a withered heart,
my love will become withered,
my heart is a stone,
no one can enter,
no one can match,
no one can find my heart,
because you have it.

You haven't give me the necessary to live,
you have the necessary to live,
three hearts,
mine,
yours,
your lover's heart.

While your lover's heart and yours are blooming,
I'm withering,
I'm dying.