When, if, you love me,
Don't tell me it is with your "whole" heart,
For your heart is but a mere ***** that will someday rot and decay.
Words will not be understood if all you do is talk.
Caress me, cherish me;
For a day, which will come unnoticed,
I will no longer be standing at your side.
So, how do we love if our hearts are flesh?
Where does it hurt when words are sharp and the distance long?
Not the heart but somewhere in our "heart".
When, if, you leave me, be sure to make a scar;
So we won't forget the passion and horror of this, our, love.