Butterflies in my stomach,
I'm pulling out my hair
But what makes me really care?
Those crystal *****,
Staring back me,
I wish I had empathy.
Your grace, your figure,
It makes me shiver,
Your mind, your face,
The things you can not simply replace.
Sentiment, love, Cupid himself,
You're better than all the books on my shelf.
My cold sheets,
You certainly must have many feats,
Where is that heat,
That warm glow you have?
I seem like a jotün,
Ugly, cold, hated.
You must be the sun,
Enamoured, you must be fun.
Those marks on your flawless skin,
Like raindrops, that one little star.
Those silky locks you can see from afar.
You must be made out of marble,
Praised by the ancient Greeks.
Is this love?
Has sentiment appeared?
Oh your intelligence,
Look at all your diligence.
You push people away with your lovely words.
My creativity is faded,
My mind is barricaded.
I can't describe it.
But this why I care.