It's what I have surpressed,
It's what makes my mind a retard,
Losing the position I had
Longing for what, to you, matters less
Else if, again, I confess
It's my, painful, loss
It, still, holds
For thee it still beats
For thee it longs
Held, helplessly, in a realm
Of affection and friendship
It's sweet, strange love ship
From glass of pain, I sip
On my back,marks of whips
Yours were the sweetest lips
Yours were the best hips