Cold again

"I like the cold"...yes, but not the cold hands screwed upon my arms. They are unheld; it is not right that they're unheld.

"It's beautiful, who is she?"...must be some other. And for a moment, I could have sworn a poem was finally written for me. No, indeed. Why would I be the inspiration for something of such beauty?

"How many hath loved you dear?"...Think on it for a while. I am a thief, though never did I plan to be. But I will say this: I have left no heart broken, and, at least in that, I have done some good. What other good I have done can't be found, as it seems I'm only good at making messes.

"And my heart shall be forever blue"...to match you. Someday someone will be in love with me, and I'll be informed only to get to say, "Oh, my dear! I'm in love with you too!" How sweet would the world be then?

How sweet would the world be if I had my beloved at long last? I grab at the air thinking it will bring him. I pray every night that I'll finally get to meet him. You'd think you'd know, but I don't know.

...am I leading you on?...