My deviant crush,
This little muse of damnation,
Deserving more then life can offer.
So many times I’ve read your works and wept
Wishing to the brightest star,
That I could be hold your face,
Daring to test fate.
Moving forward at arms length,
Never speaking this to her,
Yet when the time is right I become a mime,
Now my thoughts are consuming me and I all is to die,
Just lie in her arms dead to it all,
As the tears are running now,
I feel a shamed afraid to tell her at all,
This is my cross from the fates,
The burden that I’ll carry in silence,
Dying each day,
As it builds up inside,
Corrupting my soul,
Tainting my pen.

Why?
Why does she tantalize me so?
For this apathetic hearts bleeds,
Denying empathy’s attempts as me,
Darkening my heart to it all.
Cowering in the corner of this isolations hell,
A shadow of the man she once knew,
Yet dead,
So alive,
As I guide her,
Comfort her,
As only a friend could.