I'm in love with a woman who's face is unfamiliar to me.
Her voice is but a whisper in my dreams.
Each song is an echo of her love for me.
Each iteration, each day is but her painting in the skies for my own eyes.
I beg for her to forgive me for the days I've spent inside, far from her heart.
I know she sees me, feels me, hears me, kisses me deeply at the drop of a thought.
But for some reason, I still question if she knows the weight of her little daydreams.