Lover, I am enamoured by your passion
The gleam in your eyes and their gaze into the horizon
As you go on and on about him

I get lost in your words
Fabricate scenarios in which you notice
The slight sense of urgency that my hands posses to keep you

I ponder and hesitate. Almost asking, nearly begging,
Definitely dying to know if you've ever flirted with the idea
That someone could hold you so tight, the broken pieces mend

And if you've ever considered that's how beautiful I could be.

But I let you continue your discourse on his perfection.
Let my cynicism wash over me and coat me in armour.
I know you could never.

Not even enough to write.