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.