I wrote this poem in my early teens, but I remember feeling so horrible for not being able to see my best friend in that light.
You don't know what I'm feeling now.
You don't know that I care.
You don't know that I fight the words
That tell you it's not there.
You don't know that I dream of you
Or wish that 'we' could be.
You don't know what you make me feel
Is sometimes jealousy.
You don't know that I'm scared to death
I know just how just it will end.
It makes me sick to feel this way.
I hate having to pretend.
I don't want to loose this now.
I like it way to much.
I hate just how I want so bad
To feel what I can't touch!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem