Written, you read them as extension
of your day and life. Filled with tension,
bursting with attraction. Actual emotions shared,
more real than any dream I ever dared.

Touched, you feel them, wishing for the same.
You put it down, look up and wonder what it is
to make you lonely, why it never came
to trouble you instead of this
state of loneliness.

I've watched enough on screen, in streets,
it must be the reason my heart beats.
It's love. You know it but not quite enough.
It's love. I want it but the wait is tough.