I am here where you are not.
I am trapped in a singular frame of mind
With pressing thoughts of lonliness and yearing
That never seem to dissapate.
The more that I revert to leaving you behind,
The more I see you not seeing me,
The more I seem to pine.
I may move on with my day
Without throwing myself to the ground
Or begging you to see me the same way,
But no day, hour, minute, nor second passes
Without wishing that it was appropriate to say what I want to say.