He never called it love,
but I held his world in my hand.
How strong he felt we never spoke of.

A pedestal he had me sit, high above,
to look upon his heart, his sacred land.
He never called it love.

It seemed we fit, our hearts, like a glove.
Reciprocation was too much to demand.
How strong he felt we never spoke of.

Persuaded was the heart, gentle shove
to a feeling not willing to expand.
He never called it love.

Up on a pedestal, so high above,
wind blew feelings away like sand.
How strong he felt we never spoke of.

Losing him I never thought of.
Eternity was pictured and
he never called it love.
How strong he felt we never spoke of.