A girl that would,
a girl that just couldn't,
mean nothing to me,
but the other that wouldn't?

Or rather,
she shouldn't,
she's taken,
she wouldn't.
A heart made of gold,
I love her,
she's prudent.

The girl that just couldn't,
it's not that she wouldn't,
one side can hide
but the other?
That couldn't.
I still made her moan,
and shuffle,
and tense,
no less to atone
for the mess;
not alone.

And the girl that would?
She's taken,
I shouldn't.
It's not that I wouldn't,
but hell I just couldn't.
Because the other that wouldn't,
was with me,
each time,
and I love her.

And maybe it's worth it,
when later,
both lovesick,
I heard her admit,
that she might love me too.
She couldn't decide,
when her eye met with mine,
to abide moral side
or give in,
and confide.

In a sicken love feeling,
disgusting,
appalled,
to think to give up,
to consider a fold,
because you might love me too.