Often-times when we part,
My cheeks are pink with laughter.
My heart has to restart,
And it's beating ever-faster.

When we speak, how I smile!
How my eyes meet yours with pining;
How your grin makes all worthwhile
When, with laughter, we are dying.

How I crave the simple things;
Small gestures of solidarity.
How a kiss would give me wings;
Fill my heart with such clarity!

This is fine, I suppose,
If your heart would beat for mine;
But now I'm red as a rose,
And all that's left to do is pine!

*That, my love, is how I'll die.