What you say and what my mind hopes it would be, are never the same thing.If you could only be as sweet as I perceived you to be before, without hesitation, I would forgive you. 

If you could only see underneath this exterior, you will see, a little or maybe more than just a little of me I'd dying. Counting each day and leading myself into a denial; cause the ache is going to be evident sometime. 

If you could only be there without me begging for it. 

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