Sometimes I wonder what is worse, the fact that I loved you or the fact that I was stupid enough to tell you. In either case, now I sit by my window and lament the things I'll never have. The feel of your finger on my skin, the soft kisses in the mornin'. 


Why I ask myself, did I let my heart have its way. My mind I believed was stronger any day. The heart is a sly bastard though, it tricked the mind into believing it was in control.


So many things I had to tell you. There were so many things I wanted to ask. No I can only contemplate, about things that could have been from dawn to dusk.


An emotional fool I am not. Or so I keep telling myself. But whats wrong with a little emotions every now and then. Loving is not a crime, and now I console myself by saying, "it was all about me loving you and not having expectations"


I wish that were true, it'd make it so much easier. But each time I see you name on my phone book, my heart weeps a thousand tears for the things that could have been.