I'M Sorry Sweetheart

I see her, I feel her and I touch her, I love her but she does not exist, She always comes to wipe my tears, When I am unhappy with the truth, I love a lie and the lie is molded, In a beautiful girl, a beloved, I bring smooth and shining clay, Add my tears and make the dough, Add my blood for a pinkish shade, I put the dough on a wheel of thoughts, I enjoy then making the body a doll, I willfully delay the process of making, See again and again a cypress tree, The curls of her body I touch and retouch, Moon, my friend then becomes her face, I bring brown silky hairs from the dusk, And pink milky roses from the dawn, For the cheeks of a sweet and sexy doll, Blue stars are then turned in eyes, And the rose petals take the shape of lips, When I kiss the doll she opens her eyes, With a shy smile she steals her body, She whispers sweetly, "A dress I need." I request the clouds to become her dress, And the moon is hidden in the broken clouds, When lie turns in a dream, the truth interrupts, She whispers sweetly, "I'm sorry sweetheart."