I've imagined laying on your chest
Quite a lot actually, I must say
But it's only happened in my mind so far
But if you want, it could be real any day

I have trouble telling the truth
Like how much I want to take your hand
Or how all the poetry I let you read is about you
I've tried to tell you but I can't

It's kinda pathetic
That you're stuck in my head all day
I've tried to get you out, I have
But if it worked, I can't say

I'm stuck writing ****** poetry
It's become my way of coping
I know you'll never love me back
But I'm still softly praying and hoping