Give me a sign.

A thought.

A glance.

Let me know what's on your mind.

Do you think of me?

When I look at you.

I'm lost.

Confused.

Utterly wrecked.

My heart.

Has been torn out and thrown in front of an audience.

To look at and laugh.

At the ignorance and stupidity.

Of adolescent infatuation.

But it hurts.

It hurts to think you'll never know.

It hurts to think you'll never care.

It hurts when you talk about him.

I want to scream, tear my hair out, cry.

Cause a scene, throw a tantrum, let them all hear me.

Hear me loud and clear

I want you.
I need you.

I love you.