do me a favor, my love,
and perhaps let my fingers graze upon yours, just for another moment, another second, another hour, or another eternity, just please, let me hold you for a little while longer, because I know, the second I let you go, you're never going to come back.

It pains me, that I love you so, and you fail to read the desperate prose my eyes write for you this evening.
you were never much of a reader, you said;
perhaps I should have stopped there.