Have I flirted with you too much
my lady, or have I flirted too little?
Has my liking you being revealed,
or has it remained unseen by all?
Have my advances been too
ambitious – is there in fact no
mutuality tying us together?
Are my feelings written across
my face, like words upon a page,
or are they still in darkness,
untouched by the dawn? Have
you considered me a lover,
and if the answer is indeed a ‘yes’,
I would very much apprecaite
the opportunity to submit
my application for quite possibly
the greatest job around. Will
this story end on a note of
happiness, or is this another
tale of agony verbatim? I only ask,
for you are a light bulb shining
brightly in a lighthouse on the
seaside, and I am but a moth,
traveling upon the night wind.
Hands have tried to swat me
right out from the air, for it is
believed by some that only
butterflies ought to take flight
upon the Earth. If this is to be
a tale of woe, when the hands
of you and I do touch, my body
shall be eviscerated the moment
my physicality connects with yours,
for in a tale yet to be touched by
humble love, a globe of light and
a sweet moth are not destined
to be friends. But if you share my
feelings, and believe the opportunity
for romance is one that ought
not to be forgotten, I will happily
fly to you, and kiss your crimson
passion with all my lusting heart.
I be like a moth;
absent of attraction
in a world of avid beauty,
much unlike the butterfly
who skims across the air by day.
When the night arises
I hide beneath a waterfall of shadows
in the hopes that you won’t see me,
and to save every other person
from having to look upon my form.
But maybe I be beautiful
in a way that has been judged unfairly;
matter this does not no more,
for never shall a pair of eyes
fall happily upon myself again.
A time there perhaps was once
when a photo could have been snapped
of me and hung upon your wall of hatred
as to remember me by,
but how could one ever forget
a creature, unloved and hideous?
The answer to this question
is irrelevant as I write these final words.
Farewell sun; hello moon,
I am your servant now,
and as long as judgmental eyes
avoid my features forevermore,
I will remain humbly yours indefinite.