I still wonder who you are.
Butterflies or ants?
Could you be the one
giving me butterflies.
Or
am I guiding ants into my own picnic.
Signs of what could be more.
Yet it lessens
as time passes with you.
As I talk to you,
a game I play,
misjudge a move,
you'll kill me.
In the best way,
a way I'll hurt me more than you.
