A person who used to be me,. wrote one hell of a love poem for you,
It\'s too bad, I can\'t understand the words now,
It\'s too bad that, I still love you, but everyone keeps telling me,to keep the love to myself because I need it the most,
It\'s too bad that our bottle of champagne is over,
It\'s too bad that the moon has already disappeared,we can\'t go on with the night,
It\'s too bad,that my heart still calls for you in a needless hour,
It\'s too bad that,am still reaching out for you in an endless dream,
It\'s too bad that,even after all these,you still divide my mind into before and after with forever hanging somewhere in between,
It\'s too bad that, loving you, caring for you and being your man right now has become a magic trick and I\'m probably the worst magician to have ever existed in this century,
It\'s too bad that I still see your eyes staring into mine, everytime I close my eyes, it\'s almost as if you never left,
I only needed a tiny corner of your heart,to arrange my bed and take some rest,
Was it too much,to ask for?