A tear is rolling down her face.Her eyes full with feelings.Love and sadness.She got a broken heart.She needs a hug.By the person who did this to her.Her mouth tries to smile.But she fails.I want to touch her,Tell her,Everything will be okay.But my fingers just touch the mirror.
I gave you everything.First my happiness.Then my heart.Last my soul.And what did you do?First told meYou would love me.Then you took it back.And I'm still living withoutWhat I gave to you.And wish that one timeIt will come back to me again.
It's hurting.When she's sitting between us,It's like we're strangers.When she's touching your skin,It's like you're in love with her.When she's stroking your hair,It's like she belongs to you.When you talk about her,You're smiling the whole time,Like you can't think of anything else.When she talks about you,It sounds like,You deserve someone better than me.And when I tell you,There's this happy smile on your face.It's hurting so much.
Jolt of market-carts ;Steady drip of horses' hoofs on hard pavement ;A black sky lacquered over with blueness,And the lights of Battersea BridgePricking pale in the dawn.The beautiful hours are passingAnd still you sleep !Tired heart of my joy.Incurved upon your dreams.Will the day come before you have opened to me ?
One Life of so much Consequence!Yet I -- for it -- would pay --My Soul's entire income --In ceaseless -- salary --One Pearl -- to me -- so signal --That I would instant dive --Although -- I knew -- to take it --Would cost me -- just a life!The Sea is full -- I know it!That -- does not blur my Gem!It burns -- distinct from all the row --Intact -- in Diadem!The life is thick -- I know it!Yet -- not so dense a crowd --But Monarchs -- are perceptible --Far down the dustiest Road!
Come, my Celia, let us proveWhile we may the sports of love;Time will not be ours forever,He at length our good will sever.Spend not then his gifts in vain;Suns that set may rise again,But if once we lose this light,'Tis with us perpetual night.Why should we defer our joys?Fame and rumour are but toys.Cannot we delude the eyesOf a few poor household spies?Or his easier ears beguile,So removed by our wile?'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;But the sweet theft to reveal,