untitled
I sit and think, with empathy,
for to her no more than friends are we.
There's no way for me to go,
no more ways for me to feel,
for I felt them all, and now I know,
all of them are real.
All I have left is life, and fear.
of which the two, neither clear.
Nothing I can say,
nothing can I do,
how to make her see my feelings true.
I feel so trapped, and all alone,
but with her...I feel so free.
Just trapped with no room to go.
No room that lets me see.
Our talking gives me embrace, yet solitude,
and always with nothing to allude,...
we speak with subsiardy.
Our thoughts so abstract,
but yet so close,
our lives so different,
yet neither at its most.
The incasing of my soul,
the grasp of my heart,
nothing can I do?
But with her it cannot part.
I will continue my life,
for that's all I can do,
and perhaps someday,
my privation will come true.


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