You’ll never know all of the things I won’t say.
I will never admit you still cross my heart
At least a hundred times a day.
There would be no point to declare
That I still long for you.
That I still crave you.
That without you, I pine away
while other men speak of my beauty,
and beg to be my slave.
I feel nothing.
I am dead inside if not for pain.
It makes me miss you more.
Nothing is a fitting substitute for you, my love
But I would sooner die than say
that You are my whole heart.
That I would beg to be Your slave.
That You are the only person I want to say I’m beautiful.
That I still miss You every moment of every day.
They say “be careful what you wish for”
Well, I know better anyway.
No one could ever pray to compete
with the ghost of you inside my head.
Not even you, my dearest love.
My living, breathing daydream.
This love is so bittersweet.