It's as if i'm being passed by,
people wondering why i'm here,
how i exist,
and yet i feel so human.
You always value my life,
yet the raw passion of your words has never truely filled my ears,
as if i may be here,
but it's barely passed skin deep.
i'm not your muse,
that much is sure,
and i don't deserve to hear the passion from your lips,
but that's what i crave,
that's what i desire,
or else i won't exist any longer.
This descreet passion that i crave,
won't let me feel whole until i know,
or else i'll just remain a Doll,
listening to the machinery of time,
wanting you to tell me that you're mine,
in words i've yet heard.
and despite this foreboading failure,
i still love you,
and despite my constant despair for these words,
those few things written on paper,
spilling from your soul,
i still love you.
but please babe,
don't let me hang on forever,
i can't stand the heartache,
wanting to be more than just a Doll.
I still love you,