I know your pain and troubles, burden you.
I feel it, when you speak and when you do,
how can you think, that I would add more weight
by sharing with you, all my cruel fate.
You ask me, if I’m sure, that I’m alright.
What would you have me say? This is my plight!
I meant it, when I said, that I love you;
How can I tell you then, what’s really true.
In moments lax, I think just to outpour
and leave my secrets standing at your door
but what benefit, the pity that would come,
for hurting you would only leave me numb.
So try to understand and not erase
the love that you have used to fill my days,
with more joy, than the spoken word can tell
that relieved me from my own real personal hell.
Don’t ask of me, that which I can’t impart,
for how could I, with will, render your heart?
When the world gets hard and life becomes a trial
I turn then to your picture and your smile.