She has no idea how much I care.

She has no idea how often I visit her Facebook page just to see her face.

She has no idea how many letters I’ve written but thrown out before mailing.

She has no idea how many texts I’ve typed but deleted before sending.

She has no idea how often I walk by her favorite bar hoping to see her.

I want her to be happy with or without me.

But I would rather her be happy with me.

I once carved out a small piece of my heart and gave it to her.

She never gave it back and I am sick without it.

She has hurt me terribly.

I have forgiven her completely.

She has no idea how much I care.