I can sense your approach
but looking at you would be too painful.
Your eyes, your nose, your hands, your clothes;
never do I see them with a clear eye.
And I do not love you.

Your voice, your laugh, your talk;
I do not wish to hear it
but I always do, time and time again.
I cannot escape you, no matter how much I try.
But I cannot love you.

The things you say, the things you do,
what you like, what you hate,
your friends, your enemies.
I know them all, through and through.
But I must not love you.

A barrier, a fog, a wall,
they block me from you.
Once I talked to you with ease,
now the idea fills my head with sorrow.
So I may love you.

And I know, too, that this
will prevent you from knowing me.
You do not care about my looks or laugh.
You will not talk to me at all.
You shall not love me.

We pretend that we're special. We pretend that we're important.
We think our issues warrant a poem. And that poem is special.
Race issues, orientation issues, disorders, disabilities.
Our problems are unique. Our problems are all different.
But you are not different. You are not unique.
None of us are special.

What wouldn't I give to be with them?
I'd give them anything they desired,
No matter how insane or expensive.
I'd give all my other dreams and aspirations,
For they are more valuable.
I'd give them my body, my mind, my soul,
Any part of me they wanted.
But they don't want me,
So I'm stuck with all these things instead.
What will I give to be with them?
I can't give them anything.