Just like all things in love it starts with a kiss and you don't know what to feel.
Just like all things intimate it starts with a touch and the world seems so unreal.
And with all things emotional you don't know what to think at all.
Do all these thoughts give me a reason to fall?
But such are the thoughts of a person with a loveless fate.
Too many losses and too many regrets for a moment too late.
Whether those sensations are real to begin with is the real question.
Does it give meaning to the overwhelming loneliness within?
Why, oh, why the withered face from a time long lost.
With only a whisper to a face long sought.
But such is the confusion of a person with a fateless love.
Do I only have the past to linger on and a poem to speak of?
Time is a mocking irony in life and, oh, the rules it bends.
Though it seems to give it only means to take in the end.
Things that can never be is time's idea of a taunting envy.
And the things that are meant to be is but an inexplicable false reality.