A long time ago . . . I was bewitched.
I know I should not be doing this,
Keep limiting myself,
Keep fighting the urge not to talk to you,
But –
It just comes when I see you,
I automatically smile and wave,
And when I walk with you,
I automatically talk –
Oh, what are you doing with me?
What are you doing to me?
Is this kind of poison?
A love poison?
Maybe.
I know I should not be thinking about you,
Keeping my mouth shut,
Keep fighting the urge not to be like that,
Because you have a girlfriend,
And I am distancing myself from you.
And then I realized I keep preventing – limiting myself to be myself,
Because to be myself is greeting you everyday, not leaving you unaware,
And to be myself is reacting to what you say, not pretending to not care.
And I realized this is me –
This is me being fond of you,
And this is me being myself.
Is this wrong.
Is this wrong?
Is this wrong,
If you like me too?
I never planned to love you,
But then this poison came to.
And when I am resisting you,
And when I said to myself I was moved on,
Just one day after I went a hundred days to forget you,
It just came back –
This love just came back.
And I just found myself waiting every midnight for you,
And I think you are waiting for me too –
But that is just what I think;
I hope it is true, and I hope you can assure me,
Because waiting can be tired and dreary, especially when I am the only one who seems to care.
But I do not know, with you – all of the risks, I am catching it, I am always ready;
I am always ready with you.
Even if you keep hurting me;
Just . . . why are you like that?
Why do you make me feel like this?
Why is this feeling so powerful and it keeps hoping no matter how hopeless the situation is?
You are so insensitive and numb,
To the point I am thinking I am dumb;
Maybe I really am,
Because my love keeps coming back from the grave;
I keep coming back to you,
No matter how painful you are.
Darling, this love poison –
I want to choke on it;
It makes me do things I should not do but keeps doing;
It makes me different, I am not this.
Is this what love feels like?
If this is love, I do not want it.
But . . . I want you . . . very much . . . I really do.
Oh – what are you doing to me?
Is this kind of poison?
A love poison?
– For sure.
