Beauty and the beast.
What gives you the courage to talk to me?
How can I make you come up to me?
Questions that I’m too afraid to ask you.
Call me anything but a creep, but I beg of you just give me a peek.
I crave your attention; it makes me sick, sitting, waiting for you to arrive.
I want to smile and run up to you.
But being perceived with a crush (despite how beautiful you are) has never worked well for me growing up.
The stares of judgement and jealousy scare me.
The lies they spread, don’t consider them for a second.
Though I possess feminine features, I am a straight male.
I would *never* lie to you. Ask me a question, and I shall deliver the unvarnished truth, my love.
Are your sorrows too deep to carry alone?
Can I carry your weight of problems on top of my own?
My heart throbs, as much as my wrist aches.
Though your body is frail, I’ll never harm you, and I’ll never let you be impaired.
Give me one more chance, one more sign, one more greeting, merely one more possibility of me and you.
I promise I’ll act, I promise I’ll duel with my spine made of grass, and my heart made of glass.
Or rather I just need to hear you speak to me once more.
Show me it’s alive, given that your swain in distress is pining for you.
Which tower must I climb to reach you?