I sit alone, late at night
writing to you by candle light.
A letter, I know I will never send
many a night like this I spend.
I envisage your face, so splendid
God’s sculpting hand must be commended.
My pen, it creeps across the paper,
the fantasy visage turns to vapor.
Still I write, songs from my heart,
unattainable fancy, for the most part.
This one I say, I will send to you,
knowing it is something I will never do.
Maybe I should go to you, with note in hand,
this fear of you I hardly understand.
It must be, because I have been hurt before,
my heart left broke and bleeding on the floor.
You my sweet, have been a lifelong dream,
as a beautiful fantasy you have reigned supreme.
If I should dare, to let you know,
something so wonderful could turn into woe.
In my heart, I love you so much,
once experienced I could not live without your touch.
It would be a risk, to give my heart to you,
to big of a risk for me to pursue.
I will live with illusion, my secret desire,
rather than risk loves backlash of fire.
© Copyright 2009 – 2012 Aarron Laidig
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