Missing is a kind of torture. It is obviously painful to the point of desolation, but you have to pretend to be happy with it.
I admit that I am worthless. I promised you I would never miss you again, but who knew that I lied at that moment.
The river of love is very long and deep. You took away the boat carrying me. As expected, I sank. The bottom of the river was freezing cold.
The God of Love is both affectionate and ruthless. It shoots gold-plated lead arrows, as it should. I lost you and I'm so hurt.