Throughout my life I have known little love,
That emotion does not fit me like a glove.
I miss the feeling of butterflies in my heart,
Before they are pierced by a flying dart.
The dart in my life comes too soon,
It usually comes in the month of June.
The season of summer is what I hate most,
It always haunts me like a fierce ghost.
The ghost of the love that has died in that season,
But why? I can't find a reason.
Maybe the distance between the two of us,
At least it didn't end in a big ugly fuss.
Though the dart has taken you away from my heart,
The scar left behind will never part.
I miss the butterflies and the feelings I had,
I just wish I didn't miss you so bad.
I miss the joy of feeling your touch,
As you can see, I miss love so much.