Missing and thinking of you,
as i sit here in this class,
Looking at you through the glass,
of my neverending memories of you.
waiting for that bellt o ring,
so i may see you,
and be held close;
allowing your soft molding lips,
to caress my face and hair;
your roughly soft hands,
touching my always bare arms,
sending my skin atingling,
and my heart aflutter,
as i long to hear thoe 3 words-
those words that say so little,
yet express so much.
when i hear you say those 3 words,
along with my name,
i wish forbidden things,
though i sometimes don't know why.
never before have i felt such a feeling,
so i don't know exactl with what i'm dealing,
though the answer is sometimes vague,
it is clear when you're here-
with me.
it becomes as bold as graffiti on the walls;
the walls of my heart,
that you put there;
LOVE,
is what i'm dealing with;
along with my heart,
which so brazenly calls out for you.
as i look at you through the glass,
of my neverending memories of you,
i call out my 3 words of confession.
in my memory,
you smile and return them.
now the bell is ringing,
and i'm running off to see you,
and whisper once more to you,
My 3 Words of Confesion.