What a poetry
You spoke to strangers,
You listened to strangers.
You could have said something to me,
You could have listened to something from me.
At least hope would have been created,
At least there would have been some comfort.
Even if you would not keep the promise,
You could have at least made a promise.
The sorrow of love is already a disaster,
And on top of that, this heart is another disaster.
Either you should not have given me a heart,
Or you should not have given me sorrow.
This heart, with its failed desires,
Keeps thinking:
What if it had happened this way?
What if it had happened that way?