Hold me, kiss me, call me yours,

Push me ‘way, then slam the door.

It’s just a wish, it can’t be true

I don’t deserve one such as you.

I’m just me, and you’re just…wow.

I never will experience how

It feels to be held like she’s been,

The way you’ll hold her once again.

Whoever “she” is, must be great;

I guess that I’m just second-rate.

But I envy that she had a chance;

To love, to sigh, to feel romance.

I was given an essay,

One cold, bright, December day,

To write about my heart’s desire;

I described the one who lights a fire

In my heart and in my mind,

The one that someday, I will find

Someone like, then I’ll settle for

A substitute, though I’ll want more.

Every grin is like a slash;

And so you crush my dreams to ash.

You don’t think of me that way,

Yet still I wish for you each day.

You hurt me, bring me constant pain;

But I’ll return to you again.

The one I care for, and admire;

The one of whom I haven’t tired.

So if my choice is hurting, dying,

While on love’s wings, so gaily flying;

Or a world where I must from thee hide,

Then, angel, I choose suicide.

For Lindsay Wallace.