I always hear you call her name.
That young, aesthetically-made woman you've always admired.
I hear you call her everytime.
You call her name in a whisper.
It's like you are slightly asking the wind to deliver her your whimpers, just in case it would pass by to her house,
or in case it would whip past her beautiful face.
Everyday, I hear her name.
Every night, you'd go insane.
Not a day would go by in this time
will I ever forget how your voice shrieks
when you blurt out her name.
I love how deeply you feel about her.
I love how your eyes sparkle when you think of coming out to meet her.
I love how just by hearing her name makes your knees weak.
I'm sorry but whenever I hear you call out her name,
I only remember my pace right even before she came to race.
I never went away when you decided to bring her close,
just because I know in myself
I would have to get used to it day by day
hearing you actually call her name.
And hearing you call her name,
this may be sane,
but with me,
will you ever be the same?