I want you to know how I feel but my words don't reach the extent necessary to let you know what is real that I want to be your emissary but I act so wary like an actuary with a knack for staring judging passing cherries as cassowaries.
My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth because of the fountain of heat that lies beneath my sword in sheath melting through its protection bleeding from the rejection of your outward inflection thwarting this coward's intentions.
I miss you but I don't even know you I want to kiss you and hold you but the issue to that bold move is that I don't know if it'd go through like Father Time's sand passing through my hands ******* I'm an old man from your cold canned gold jam I'm sold bland then soul slammed by Conan The Barbarian in my solarium solitary terrarium where nary a sum equals more than one.