I do not know if this is true,
but I think that I would die for you.
What else am I made for
 (have all of me)?
The only thing I know for certain
 is that I love you.
I crave the warmth of your body,
and the softness of your lips
 as a flower
that imbibes the sun’s golden nectar (with devotion).

I hate that I do not know if you love me
(I think you do).
Not knowing is the worst part.
I am a flower quickly fading,
once nourished by your love,
now withering away (to the slow anguish of decay),
despite its soft effervescence.
My favourite thing to do is
nestle my body into yours,
finally feeling safe,
finally at home.

You cannot fathom the depth
of the darkness that consumes me
when you are not here (holding me).
The undead revenant of my heart
weeps at your tender touch,
yearning for the lush green
meadows of your eyes.

As much as I believe in anything,
my heart feverently hopes
that you are strengthed by my love,
that even as I die,
my love will keep you alive
sustaining your soui forever
(please, do not forget me, my love).