Sunday, February 3, 2013

Of Love

What would I know of love, curled into a ball in the middle of the night, feeling the emptiness of where you're not? What would I know of love, hearing a song over the radio and wishing that I was singing it to you? What would I know of love, biting my lip and sneaking glances in your direction? What would I know of love, hoping that today you might turn around and pull me into your arms?

Nothing, I suppose.

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