How many times have I told you ‘I love you’, in my head?
How many times have I almost said it face to face?
Still I feel like you avoid my gentle gaze –
like it was something that would hurt you, cause you pain.
I’m not the one you think of when you lie alone in bed,
no – I know by now there is nothing here for me to gain.
Still every day perhaps a thousand times
I say those words and look you in the eyes;
take you softly by the hand – you don’t resist;
I just need to make you see that I exist.
How many times indeed have I done this?
How many times still will I have to do it more?
I’ve shrunk until what’s left is just a core;
still I find that there’s no stopping what I do.
So when you meet your brown eyes in the mirror, blow a kiss –
and please tell them how I miss you.