I pray for you by every crucifix
And toast you in every old tavern.
I cry for you in every empty corner
And whisper your name on every windy hill.
But when you are near,
I hide behind a fan
And tell you there is someone else.
Always ‘someone else’.
Perhaps I love you, but I cannot yield.
Not because I do not dare to love,
But because I’m afraid to lose you.
And I would lose you, that is for certain,
Because loss is the end of every love.