Crickets chirp a ballad for their mates,
As we sit in the back of your truck,
Staring into the sky.
I want to sing you a song, but would you listen?
If I took you by the hand, would you squeeze mine?
If I rolled over, lay on my side and stared at you,
Would you do the same?
Would you ask me what I was doing, or take me home?
If you reject me, and are set aback,
I would rather walk home.
I don't want the awkward silence,
I would just want to be alone.
I would cry, and I would not want you to see.
I wouldn't want you to know how I really feel about you.
I may love you, but if you don't love me,
We have nothing.
A gay man cannot love whomever he likes.
The struggle for happiness is immensely limited,
I wish I were attracted to women,
I would stop writing fucking poems about you.