He that he was - was my life.
He was my skin from the outside,  
And I felt him within each and every muscle and bone,  
He was my soul from the inside, yet now -
Now he is nothing but a cold white stone.

We promised to love and cherish each other,
I looked at you and shivered.
Your beautiful ocean-blue eyes were sad and doleful,
But this promised was as deep as one hundred rivers.  

The days are passing-by one by one,
But his mystery still stands.

Where is he, I wonder, why hasn't he called?
I sit by the window, thinking about the warm touch of his
hands,  
And waiting for our story to be told.

The air is cold, yet the sky is very bright.
The moon could show us the way to our indefinite love,
Just the two of us walking -
Hand by hand, in this unforgettable night.

We could stand by out special fountain
while my soul by yours is leaded
I remember your loving radiant smile high on that mountain
And to words are at all needed.

I silently stare at the stars, praying out loud
Expecting him to appear in the other end of the yard,
Sadly enough, I feel so proud
While the memory of his figure burns me deeply and hard..

He was my life, as said in literature and world-known art
Our love as our promise will be written on his stone
We will continue to be, until death brings us apart,
Except that it surely won't.