Do not wrap me in decorated words.
I will brush them off like fallen leaves.
Instead, take me to the quiet room,
the one with the shelves packed with
Let me read them, let me touch upon the
words only your heart has the ability
You think of me as immature and blind,
but yet I see and feel the coldness
in your voice.
The walls that you build between us
have a very particular feel.
Shall I take you to the room of my thoughts?
There, on the table overlooking the meadows and the woods,
is the book with the words even my heart
can no longer bear,
and only God can understand.
When once my eyes drew you
and kept you,
I now see them wandering,
and when they return they are distant.
And I wonder,
how much longer?
How much longer until you turn away completely?
Please, just be happy when you do,
and at least,
the thought of your ease
shall be the coolness of my eyes.
I’ve run out of ways to tell you
I love you.