Why?

She's the apple of my eye The one with whom the time seems to fly by Who makes my heart race with her sweet voice The only one that makes death not seem like the only choice But then, why is it that at night when I'm under the covers, she's not the one I love? Why isn't she the one that I want to hold? And why does it feel like she feels the same? We look at each other with want, but deep down we both know it's not permanent Our conversations holding the tiniest tinge of a love of the two souls that are misfortunate. I want it to be her God, do I want it to be her. To see that brown curly hair as I nuzzle into the crook of her neck. But all I can see is that beautiful blonde hair cascading down my back. I do want her gentle voice as she reassures me But I know my soul needs the crushing words of the debris