You are into her before you even know it,
You love her before you even know what love is,
You aren’t sure of course,
Sometimes it’s so easy to just be a pervert,
Sometimes it’s so easy to put your friendship on sale just to get rid of some momentary bouts of loneliness.
Friendship?
What is friendship?
Apart from that caring and sharing,
Is it the line that you swear to never cross?
Even though you are mostly hanging around this side of the line longing to explore the land opposite side of it,
Mind says it might be fun,
Mind says we should be hopeful, of course nothing would change.
What mind? Mind intoxicated with lust among other things?
Liar.
Liar.
The fucking temptress.
Nothing remains the same,
Stop with the tendency to make simple things complicated.
Let me continue walking on this side of paradise,
I love it,
No, trust me,
It’s not the question of me being corrupted or scrupulous,
Maybe it’s simply the question of me being hesitant
Or cowardly
Or in denial.
Don’t ask me.
Don’t argue.
Do you understand the implications of what you are implying?
It’s so easy to fall for her though,
No wonder it has happened before
With other people,
In other places.
It’s easy to stand in the queue,
Waiting for nothing in particular,
Maybe hanging out with people who share the same object of admiration.
Admiration?
But I fucking love her,
But they do too!
It’s so easy to love her though,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know why,
It makes me fucking hate myself
I don’t want to be another leech yearning to be loved back,
I wanted to love –
Unconditionally
For once in my whole god damned life!
Maybe that is why I am standing in the queue,
Hoping for everything,
Hoping for nothing.
I like to believe that you are aware what it means to me,
What you mean to me,
I like to believe that you are aware of my presence in this queue,
And in a way you even like it.
Who doesn’t like to be loved after all?
Makes you such a bitch.
And I love you even more.
I know you won’t say it out loud,
I know you are in some evil way even wanting me to confess,
Yeah, good luck with that.
There’s more thrill in secretly searching for various shades of the same colour in your eyes,
There’s more thrill in noticing the varying sizes of your pupil,
There’s more thrill in unabashedly juxtaposing my fantasies on to you,
There’s more thrill in listening to your voice in sync with the songs,
There’s more thrill in watching you kiss other people,
The bittersweet sigh from my heart,
I have dealt with this before,
You can be my ultimate romantic tragedy.
Anyway, I am not sure if I am capable of making you my happy ending.
So ignore my love,
Ignore my love for you, my love
Meanwhile I can write millions of love songs on you,
Which I hope would disappear from the face of the Earth,
Unread.
Especially by you.