How did I fall in love with her before I even knew her name?
I can't help but recall how I used to admire her from a distance for years.
I keep asking myself, "What if?" and I need answers.
As I smoke cigarettes from the roof.


It's killing me inside not to ∼
It tears me apart not to tell her what I've felt. I'm still astray in my own imagination thinking of her.
I'm still lost in my slumber, dreaming about her.
And it amazes me how she holds my hands in my lucid dreams.

For god's sake, I'll wait 'til she makes up her mind.
I said it didn't have to hurt this much.
But I'd still choose her a hundred times before letting her go.
Probably, this would be my last poem about her.
And certainly, she's still the person I once called home.

She's in the past, but the past is no longer my concern.
Yet in my very eyes, she's as beautiful as the day I've seen her.
I wish that I had said it.
I wish that I had said it.





© Havoc