It hurts.
Constantly following you
            just because I should.
Or perhaps to rid the pain
            of which I could never gain

Inside...

Like moth to the flame
         whereby the thing
         I most dear
                   will burn me right here
         from where I stand

Outside...

While he dates you on restos
         And give you those chocos
         Everything you do,
Is a nail to my heart

Spite of my pain
       and my ultimate travail
I await the chance
       to catch you on my arms

But while I can't
                  I would still pursue

    just for this
                  improbable chance.