I Refuse Again

They want us to meet.

.

Would you look at me the way I am certain I’d do you?

Where I stand; would you glance?

Here, where there is none but deceit,

where there is none but my life in defeat,

where my road has finally left me to deplete;

would you take a second look, even one so incomplete?

.

They want us to meet.

.

Would you talk to me?

With words I wish you’d woo; would you speak?

A voice I only hear in funny whispers in my sleep,

a voice I only hear as mine when I weep,

a voice I only hear when I make-believe;

would you speak to me the words that would make me weak?

.

They want us to meet.

.

Would you smile at me?

With the sweetness I only see in photographs; would you feel?

Would you lift my chin if I shied away and blushed?

Would you say I’d be fine as you have come, and rush

to walk with me down the path of a thousand thrush?

would you feel for me and tell me you have come,

the way you always do when I dream of a crush?

.

They want us to meet.

But then I remember… you have not even laid your eyes on me.

So I refuse again and again and again,

until I convince myself: the world, I could actually cheat.

.

.

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