Why am I unable to ask the questions I hold back so badly. Will I have to take these questions to my grave too? Like the other hundreds of them... Why is it that I feel that yes, I ain't the only one waiting for you, that I ain't imagining you being sad too, whereas each and every action of yours just say the otherwise.

Why do I so desperately pray, you wrote that poem with me in your mind. Why do I still keep hope and torment myself every night. Why do I still think that maybe you'll give our love a chance again, and still hold on to this petty life and hope of mine.

Yes you calm me down, you do so many things to me, that no one ever did. Was it my fault that I gave you that power, despite warning myself not to love so deeply. I showed you that kid, that so desperately wanted to be loved and taken care of, that kid that I had so carefully hidden from the world, and had made another persona for the world to see. You were the first person I bared my heart and soul to, and now I don't think I will ever do that to anyone. I could never give you a flower, hug you, kiss you, pat you and so many other things that I regret to the ends of hell. If I get the chance again, I will never be shy, and be sure to express my feelings properly, though the chances for that seem so slim.