You are my favorite yet painful story to tell.
The story of how I fought this one-way war.
The story of how I let you slip from my grasp, no matter how hard I fell for you. Because I can’t and I won’t.
The story of “ifs”:
if only you came five years earlier, I’d never let you go;
if only you came when it wasn’t still too late, I’d be with you for the next 60 years of our life.
I’ll gladly carve your name in my heart.
Letting it scar so that when I’ll grow old,
I’ll always remember that there was a time that you became the reason
a part of my heart beats in my one-way war.