Your body's fire-forged from golden sun.
While mine's just sewn from scraps dropped from above.
I, the lowly pigeon, you: God's dove;
Small differences I wish we'd overcome.
A great expanse of miles holds you numb.
You're far too far away to weigh my love.
Yet still I sulk in yours (or lack thereof).
Love should break all boundaries, say some.
I talk but you don't seem to ever hear.
When love is just an unrequited call,
I wonder if it's really love at all.
I walk my head and dream that you'll appear.
But facts just fuel my unrequited rage:
You're just an underwear model on a page.
Damn you, Calvin Klein!