The trouble with loving you is this:
In the morning, I cannot eat my breakfast
Because your picture frame’s poking me.
During lunch, I can’t even chew my food
Since your dashing eyes are gazing at me—
Maybe I should flip this picture frame down.
Even during my snack time I can’t eat
I don’t know why but maybe because of you—
I blame your love for making me wanting you more.
At night, as I eat my dinner, I can’t
My stomach is resisting the taste of this meat
It’s as if it’s needing your kiss.
But the real trouble is this:
This farthest distance between you and me
Is the closest I could get to you.