How do I know if it's still love, or a darker sort of need?
As each wish that we send above, we do so out of greed.

I could dream of you forever, and I probably will indeed.
Love chained our hearts together, and I'm not asking to be freed.

My mistakes haunt me everyday, whilst smiling eyes mislead.
In disbelieving disarray, surviving love's stampede.

I write these words I cannot say, not knowing where they'll lead.
But I'll still write them anyway, these words you'll never read.