His silly talk,
And his awkward walk;
His crooked smile,
And his old-school style;
His fears, his scars and other little foibles,
They make him perfect, his flaws and all;
I love them; no doubts, no blurs—
In the same way he loves hers.

I sat on a park bench,
Five meters away from you;
I stared at you
Several times but you never knew;
You looked my way,
And my heart almost went astray;
Then you stood up, gaped, speechless,
My eyes wandered around
as my emotions became a mess;
As the girl next to me
walked down the park alley,
I realized your gaze
was fixed on her earnestly;
My mind went blank,
heart clenched with despair,
I was no more
than a girl sitting on a bench chair.