Im not so poetic
Seem to trip up on my words
They came stumbling down the stairs,
And-- up and out the door
Landed right at your feet
Delivered so pathetically
But that's no rare thing
Your presence, it what you do to me

Made you (one) crack a smile
So you stayed for a while
And (two) sentences later I was staring back at the ground
So you (three) held my hand
And I finally I understand . . .

That you just ask me to be me, (four)
And nothing more