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Confession
Despite my longing, I’ve tried to be good.
I don’t call or message, ‘cept in reply.
‘Cause if you’re healing, I don’t think I should
Push myself on you and make a good try.
Though I must admit, I have sent you mail...
Were it too much, I thought you’d indicate.
You inspire art. To hide it, I’d fail.
And I never thought you’d reciprocate.
As each morning comes, I watch the sun rise.
I go through my day, at work and at play.
I lay down to bed, and I close my eyes.
And find there’s one thing I’ve thought of all day
So sweet angel, as I say this it’s true,
I find pure joy in the sweet thought of you.