hope is fragile, hearts are fertile: love is fleeting
I am afraid to write my heart
because I know what it must look like
to suspecting minds of love-suckers
who forget that love can be right.
I keep it deep inside my mind
locked tight under barbs and beams
because describing it leaves me so starry-eyed
that cliches are unavoidable, it seems.
now, I know well this is a safe place
and my fingers itch to tell their tale
so I'll give you a snippet of the big picture
before my warm heart goes stale.
he is magic and kindness I cannot believe
I was blind to the depth of one's heart
but he gives simply and loves limitlessly
and that shows in his every part.
I have come to know that most men are pigs
I'd given up on the good
but I'm terrified now because again I believe
and time again I've sworn I never would.
I've put trust in the good ones before
they keep it for a rainy day
even they only come back when they're bored
why would he act another way?
but I cannot help but love this boy.
in him I see only pure gold.
remind me after we crash and burn
that even the good ones will always get old.