No matter where i am, you were a piece of me.
What i do, you were there for me.
The mistakes i make, you supported me.
But now i’m here, 
and you are there stuck in the present- disillusioned, 
by the past. Whilst you walk the future.
My tear filled eyes witness, another
girls metaphor for innocence is stolen, 
by you.
If French is the language of love- why, 
why can’t we speak it…
Instead.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    