Snapped out this morning from this languorous phase of time,
The grande-sized aftershock of loving too much.
When I cannot seem to make words perfectly rhymed,
My knuckles crackled as reminiscion went back to your touch.

Regret and remorse are on the same page today
As I lament the loss of the would and should be
Dear, would the script at the end be always sorry?
Or I just made cowardice and insecurity a part of me?

I talk bullcrap again and again with no gain.
Using words that makes you boggle in vain again.
I’d make haste and tell you my story
Just listen a while for I wont and I don’t want to tarry.

Well, I met this gal on a drab gloomy room on a tuesday.
I was taken aback for she came in vamoose-like doomsday.
You ever experienced this, when your sight crops to 4 by 3?
Background blurs and she’s completely all you see.

I could’ve went to her straight and say hey lady, I could’ve.
But I was held in my seat for bravery did I not inherit.
Numbers flew by and still I’m far from ready,
That until this day, I still don’t know what to say.

The days I’m with her, I’m only half alive.
Every word I say to her are either true or guarded.
How can I compliment as a friend and appreciate as a lover behind a wall that's 12-inched?
How can I hold her hand as a friend while my insides are turning-twisted?

I’ve wronged her seven shades of Sunday,
And I’ve been pained 32 shades of **** day.
Is the universe unfair to me for being ****** to not love her throughout?
Or not fair to her for this love of mine she has missed out?