Is he understanding
it's him this nonsense is about?
Are my thoughts too loud?
If he does,
what does he think:
is it pleasant or a trick?
I hope he doesn't,
I hope he does.
I hope he doesn't mind.
It's not easy,
reading your cheesy
and not knowing
I never know,
too insecure.
The pain finally hits,
that's the point of love.
I thought I'd be safe
but I'm delusional
for it was a mistake;
it was all in my head,
forgive and forsake,
learn from the mistake I made.
This trouble was all in me:
he who can't say no
is too good for this:
he's good with the quill,
he's good in the will;
I'm bad in the fear,
I'm bad at being near.
I don't want to give up
but I think I must.
My love so young
is cut short enough.
Three months it's been,
three weeks I've waited.
I've been patient,
I've been real
for I don't want to shed
even one more tear.
I must care for myself,
not give too much trouble
to the man
who's poetry himself.
I spent the last hour
in thoughts of you
for they are bright delight
but when I think of myself,
I think I'll never compare
I can tell my gaze
upon you shifted completely.
Can't blame me, can't help it.
I smile softly,
my crooked smile
that wouldn't
even a fly attract.
How can I wish to bestow
enough presence
to remind you I'm there?
Is this all an act?
I call myself an actor
so I'll play pretend,
this is the last act
to a show that never ends
