"I will give you my glory if you promise to give me your heart."
I sang these words to you through fervent texts.
Fingers danced rapidly trying to make you understand the position you put my feelings in.
My fickle feelings are a thing to be hated.
A thing to love nonetheless.
You said you only wanted a good time, nothing more than a silly summer spree.
Nothing more to you, so it shouldn't be more to me.
Oh lover,
This is not my intention but I must lose you,
for my glory is worth more than a knowingly ending bliss of nothing
that would cost everything.