It hurts to love you.
Not knowing if it’s right,
If I ought to or if I should,
We are just friends…
But as usual, I want more.
I don’t even know,
If you want me like I do,
Or if it’s just a fraction of my imagination,
Painting colorful meaning into our conversation.
Because right from the first contact,
Something clicked between us.
I knew, even then, that I wanted you,
And I knew, that if I’m to have you,
I want it to be serious, not a game or conquest.
So I waited.
Concealing my desire,
Channeling it into acquiring and building our friendship,
And each passing moment brought us together.
Closer. Laughing. Giggling. Conspiring.
Holding each other’s hands in dark moment.
A true friendship…
But I yearn for more.
It hurts to love you,
Not willing to ruin that which we share,
Not knowing if you feel the same,
Not knowing if you were scared,
Like me, unsure of the consequences that will follow.
Calling you, “Baby. Bae. Baby. Love,”
And other forms of endearment,
In the context of our friendship.
Hoping to pass a secret message across…
But I don’t know how you interpreted it,
Cos you’d respond, calling me Darling, My baby and such…
But my hands are tied and I can’t say anything,
Cos your alliance and friendship I am scared to lose.
So yea… It hurts to love you,
But I still (wanna) love you.
Willing to get hurt for you.
Better it be in silence,
Than a heartbreaking retrospect.
It hurts… But I’ll wait.
Standing by.
For you.
As your ally,
Your friend,
If not your lover.
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