Let me imprison all this.
Telling it through a pen.
It is bitter.
Even sick.
Bury a taste.
The taste I call love.
I chose silent a thousand languages.
Because I do not know what to do.
Love. . .
I do not want to reveal it.
I know it's sad.
But. . .
More sad if you know it.
And slowly you stay away from me.
Because of a love.
That should not be there.
