The words tumble through my memory,
A music box, of your voice wound forever,
Replaying conversations, listening to every theory,
You are so funny, so very clever,
Why am I always thinking about you?
Why am I always afraid of it too?

I love the conversation, and always the company,
Lately, I have been confused, things a bit weird,
Not just a moment or two, but too many,
Is it just my mind, or could it be as I feared?
Why is that all I wonder?
Why is my mind a blunder?

I could never ask, I don't have the courage,
But I can write, it comes naturally,
I never wish to hurt, or incite fits of rage,
I didn't know I could do that actually,
Why can I do this to those I love?
Why my feelings do I involve?