There is this girl I like.
She's wonderful, beautiful and nice,
and a very good friend.

I think about her every moment of the day,
about how I want to see her,
to hold her,
to kiss her,
to love her.

I think about the pain I feel,
when I cannot see her,
when I cannot hold her,
when I cannot tell her.

If this isn't love,
this is as close to it as I need to be.