"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." - William Wordsworth |
Love is the feeling of butterflies,
Ones that have a beginning with no end...
I'm afraid to find out,
I'm afraid of what I really feel...
It's been about a year already,
And have you been thinking of the past...
It's much too late,
To say that I was wrong...
Remember the day that we first met?
An extraordinary day that I'll never forget...
Sometimes I wish I could forget. |
If I could just see you, I wouldn't mind being in an unrequited love. |
There's no point in living when my reason to breathe is keeping someone else alive. |