Strange metaphor...

Irma, My Waussie,

I waved to her, And thought there goes my life, My future. Hated, But also loved.. I turned around, So that she do not saw my sadness and tears. What I felt, That she has always known, Devils well. And that's always remained so. A few letters...She does remember, And then silence, Anxious silence of solitude, Damn that one moment,

I saw that look in her eyes, Maybe she is tempered. I hope not, Because I know her the way she is, Hardened. I hope not because I love her the way she is. from all the girls I knew, she's still prettier than all those women, Why.. She anchor her love directly to my heart. When I have a difficult moment, Then I talk to you in my poems. Close my eyes, It is hypothetical, As if your hand touches mine.

Who, s comfort me and gives advices could be there for me. love is not a age, so i'll be there for her, when she needs it. it gives confusion and a jumble of mixed emotions, It tortures me while I think of her. You might find it an inappropriate metaphor, read about each time. senseless poems, from a foolish person who try to explain, love for the love of his life is for him,

Irma, My Waussie, Not insane...