head, shoulders, knees, and toes [t'aimerais que ce soit vrai]
I've never gone
from the place I loved you.
Actually, since then,
I sculpt you in heretic poems
with air and without air
in my lungs.
Like a cylinder,
my sentiments rolled and rolls
[still] for being materialized in
my written and unwritten desires.
I've never gone
from the place I loved you.
I feel you in
my head, shoulders, knees, and toes.
Would you like it to be true?
I mean, to call you back again?
