It pains me to think of you,
To think of what not I deserve.
You long for not me, but another.
Some say I can feel this way of two.
There is no other I feel this way of.
The only backup for you is your friendship.
Your hail like soft cinnamon silk, spun by winged seraphs.
Your eyes are as ivy green jade hidden in you cinnamon wavy hair.
Skin like mocha as it touches you soft lips.
I have come to assume you will never feel this way
Why should I try to persuade your opinion?
To make the impossible, possible.
You cannot know.
I will not tell you.
Because my heart is breakable.
