for hours i write
the constant changing
the changing of ideas
how do i tell her
what do i say
the warmth of her glow
the happiness in her presence
the sorrow in her absence
the words i want so much to say
are no better expressed than what is written now
i can say i love her and that would be true
i wish she knew i loved her
id rather be next to you
i love her with all and every intention
but she does not love me
that much i never mention
the simple joy of my memories
is all i seem to have
the past seems so close to me
i hoped that it would last
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