PINING
Why can't he love me, I would consistently whine
For with longing I am going out of my mind
My days start with thoughts of him and end with a sigh
How can I stop when for him only my heart pines
Behind I am leaving this plain jane that I've become
For the real me has a charm not unlike a beacon
I dress up not to lure him into the folds of my arms
For lack of love he left the caress given only by my arms
For the real ladies and anyone who can relate
in the arms of winter I seek warmth, the last place I could ever get one, but not for long; for I myself will be the snow
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