It’s hard not write about you. To you. For you. When you’re all I think about. My ears are ringing in hopes that my name is leaving your lips. Nothing more than a fantasy at this point. That’s all I do sometimes during the busy hours of the day, my mind fills itself with images of you. I remember your lips more than any other part of you. Even my most favored part of you is in no comparison to your lips. Don’t I speak about them often? How many other ways can I spill my heart over the way you kissed me? It’s never enough. Never. Fantasies are all that are keeping me from falling flat on my face into reality.
It’s no fun there, reality that is and at least during these brief, quite often moments I have with you, I have you the way I truly want.
Soon I will become delirious and disillusioned to the concept that you are not mine and frankly, you never will be.
What a shame. What a shame. A lover so divine, but never to be mine.
I never thought I would be unable to have the man I truly wanted. What a shame to live life this way.