A/N
I own nothing,
but a rhyme or two.
I don't earn money,
I write for myself
and, dear reader,
You.
I don't know why she talks to me,
She's to good for me at least.
She's my guardian, my angel,
And I'm a rotten beast.
I'm always near,
Following her as a shadow.
When I look in her eyes,
I get lost in the green meadow.
If I touch her hair,
Will it burn?
So many things I don't dare,
And yet for them I yearn.
Amazing how her smile
Never leaves her face.
For her I would die and lie,
Just to pull her in embrace.
She's so different than me.
Brilliant, like I am,
But there are things in people she sees,
Things they don't know they're there.
She's too good for me.
That's why she'll never be mine.
She left the scar that will never heal,
Not on the flesh, but from the inside.