A question lingers,
basking in my mind.
The question is:
What, when you confess?
What will happen,
What will I do?
What will you do,
How will you do?
Will it change us for better,
or worse, destroy us?
Will it tear us apart,
or will it glue us together?
Will it wreak havoc,
or will it bring joy?
Little is known of you,
one with fair hair.
You're mysterious, mischievous,
you're quiet, not silent.
I barely know you,
you barely know me.
I think it's fair to say,
"No."
I think it's fair to say,
"Let's start as friends."
Of course, with a bright, shy smile,
Of course, hiding my blush behind my hair.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust some rants by me. Maybe I'll publish my sucky old ones, maybe I won't. You'll never know.
