What if I asked nicely?
If I promised to be good forever, to stay on the straight path with you as a guide holding my hand, could I have it then?
If I bathed you in gold and jewels, put the world at your feet, brought the moon down to earth just on your whim, would you then just allow me a small piece?
And what if I had all the right words, told you only sweet and gentle things, would you let me say the one thing I've always wanted-even if you were asleep and could only hear it in your dreams?
Could I get down on my knees with a hideous face covered in tears and hope with as much useless optimism as possible, could I then stand a chance?
What if I razed the world, burned it to the ground in your name and spread the ashes before you as a sacrificial shrine? Would you take what I had to offer?
And the lives of those who had hurt you. If I stole them away in the night and delivered them to you on a plate encrusted with silver, would you let me protect you?
What if I tore myself apart, became nothing but a literal corpse for you rotting away as I always did even in life, would you feel sorry for the flesh that housed a twisted monster?
Could I steal a glance from you, just a soft, half-lidded flicker of eye in my direction?
If I gave you everything I had-my voice, my possessions, my music-could I then give you one last thing, just one simple name to add behind yours?
If I were a man and not a monster, would you give me a second chance?
And what if I asked nicely?
"Could I please have your heart?" he begged on bended knee, shoulders already shaking from the effort to contain bottled emotions. Eyes agleam with baseless hope mingled in realistic tears, he searched her face for any trace of what he wanted, needed to see in order to gain some form of resolution to his internal conflict.
She turned on his open hand, always reaching for hers but never quite grasping its foreign companion, and walked away from his kneeling figure.