Consuming love, it's not returned.
He doesn't know how she cries.
How everytime he kisses her, inside a part of her dies.
She wants more than passion, wants tenderness and care.
When he holds her close, a part of her isn't there.
Thier secret meetings, late-night talks, remain hidden in the dark.
Because he's ashamed of who she is, of all the things that they ever did.
She knows its not right, she knows it isn't fair.
But she surpresses her emotions, pretends she doesn't care.
Drowning her guilt in tears and bittersweet wine, she waits for the impossible day when he will ask "Will you be mine?"