Tossing and turning, sleep evades me
The thought of her pure dress
As I sip my warm white tea
My love becomes less and less

My eyes shall not close
To be filled with desires which are false
Dreams that make me smile
Fall into a deep trial

I desire hate
This love is a curse
To want a ***** as a mate
Wealth filled purse

I give everything
I want something
Phone in hand dialing Nick Caraway
I love you is what I say