What's wrong with me?
the only difference I see
between her and I,
besides how well I fit you
and how I make you laugh,
the things we share.
Of course the subtle flirting glances
that say so much to me.
What's wrong with me?
Well, I know she's just
that much prettier than me,
each time you choose
her, each time you touch her
Yet you deny the sparks
the possibilities
and the simple joy of what could
be us.
What's wrong with that?