To her son, who came in tears, mother told: "Do not complain;
Those are tiny little scratches, you will soon be right as rain".
But foretold me later Gypsy: "Don't search for love in vain,
In this field for you, poor fellow, cards are showing no gain".

ou that ...
I doubt it will make You feel as you expect - quite glad.
Let You consider me as being insensitive and bad,
As much as I forgave, I never shall forget !


You asked to stick around - sure Dear, I indeed may stay,
But hardly You will find that this will make your day.
Let You consider me being cold and causing pain,
There is nothing You could do to make me love again.


The feeling's gone and can not be revived by will.
Love resurrection is impossible, so simply let's be real.
Betrayal is the wound, which no witch could heal.
When Love is crucified it stays forever killed.

In poetry, the sense of being attempting to extract,
Bard, in his feelings, shows time's connection act.

If the sadness sneaked by sudden into heart,
Do not share grief and sorrows with beloved.
Don't show her your worries, pain, don't say a word.
Let the calm of one you love be undisturbed.

To those, who wasn't loved enough, in fullest measure,
I dedicate my lines to ones being dumped, not treasured.
So many broken hearts are hurt, so plenty,
Always alone and sad, loveless and empty.
But for despair, though, there is no reason,
And Spring will come after heart freezing winter season.