emotional hangover

My stomach is sick,
My head aches.
But the drug wasn't alcohol.
It was you.

Do you know that you saved me
in these lonely London days?
(I needed "a little love and a hand to hold")
And do you know that I was rarely prouder
than last night
with my hand in yours
walking through the crowded streets.

Your astonishing lovely green eyes
gave nothing away
(when you told me how pretty I was)
and so tried I.


But my heart is an open book.
And the thought that
I might never see you again
fucking aches in my soul.

I really try to carry on.
I really try not to think about you too much.
(already lost: the way I pronounced "really"
always made you chuckle)
I know we were not meant to be
I try , I try...
(yes, laugh about me)


(first one)