'Desperate' is the saddest word I've heard
From even far away you know it comes with no good
You start walking in the other direction,
Lonely or alone, who can say?

But why stop a man who wants to love?
I, for one, love being in love and do it exactly like in the movies
Complete with my whole being, and heartbreaking honesty
I sing songs and click pictures and laugh too loud
And kiss like nothing else can remotely fill my empty soul
If I had a lover, that's what I'd call him- lover
Or honey in the soft passionate way of Andrea Gibson
I'd send three am texts with Neruda's poems and tell him I cried to sleep
He doesn't have to reply back immediately
I'd be painting gifts, taking parts of me out to create something for him
I'd write handwritten perfume laden love letters on pink paper
If he cries a river, I'd make origami boats to make him laugh
And I'd tell him he's beautiful so many times
That he'd forget he ever felt un-beautiful in his entire life
And I'd smell his hair.

But here is a conversation I must never have
Here is a truth I must never tell
And here is a feeling that must always stay
Hidden.
Not anymore.