Infatuation may not be love, but it is still pleasant.

Could it possibly be that we were never meant to be?

Shall it be destiny that we share is stolen glances?

Yet, I know that this is correct.

And my heart aches with its superficial wounds.

I may not have been cut very deep,

But I pretend I have been perilously sliced.

I don't regret what we didn't have.

You were a pleasant fantasy that gave me something.

What that something is, I'll never know.

I am unafraid of moving on.

Maybe I will find someone that can give me everything.

Or I will flit and fly around others,

Merely sampling but never committing.

Maybe I will see you in several years.

We will have both aged, I know.

And we will smile at each other.

But you will always stay ignorant.

Of course, I can only guess what will happen next,

But I will always appreciate your unknowing gift.