before. And shall be said
again. That friends can turn into
lovers. But lovers cannot turn
into friends. I cannot talk to you
without wanting to kiss your

strawberry wine lips. I cannot walk
beside you without wanting my hands
around your lean square hips. I cannot
look up at the stars without seeing

them in your shiny chestnut
eyes. No matter how long it's been
I cannot cut these ties. I cannot
pretend it doesn't pain me

to see you with another
woman. I don't like to be
like this. But this heart in my
breast has turned wooden as
a spoon. Without your warm

caress nothing sticks like the snow
in June. I still lose my breath when I look
at you. Guess I'll go to my death
without saying these two little words “I do.”