Today it’s been a year since I don’t love you.
So, twelve months of misfortune,
fifty-two weeks of embitterment,
four seasons of endless downpour.
Your reproach was a hard blow,
in a hurry you spat it out by treason,
my poor heart was armourless,
it didn’t expect that hurting gambit.
It’s been a year since I’m an empty soul,
I’ve forgotten to laugh and I cry hidden,
agonizing in your frozen company.
I look at you and my frail mind
wonders if the day will ever come
when I dare throw you out of my life.