My heart doesn't have what my mind
knows this takes.
It's too soon to risk suffering foolish
mistakes
With a woman who's stingy with words
and with hints
Even though I look closely, examine and
squint.
I can't help but look closely, can't
help lingering long.
If I decide against action, I'm
probably not wrong.
My diary's sore from my written-form
praying
That he'll notice and listen to what
I'm not saying.
If he'd only just ask me, I'd go right
along
With his plans and my dreams and his
influence strong.
We'd move so very quickly if only he'd
start.
Why can't that man read what he wrote
on my heart?
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