I'm in love the with idea of you. I can't get over it. It stays with me. It lives in me. I cannot leave it and I do not need to. Because, you see, I'm not in love with you.

I'm in love with way you make me feel. The smile you bring to my lips. The one I attempt to hide. The one no one else can see. But even if they do. What's it matter? I'm not in love with you.

I'm in love with the way you move. The way you touch your fingers to your cheek. And I may do the same. Yes I may touch your cheek, and pull you close to me. But that's okay. Because it's not as if I'm in love with you.

I'm in love with your kiss. Your lips on my lips. The way we feel together. I can't fake that. But you can. Because you're not in love with me. And that's alright. I don't mind. I'm not in love with you.

And maybe if I say it a few more times.
And maybe if I make a few more rhymes.
And maybe if I tell a few more lies.
I'll finally start to believe it.