I don't know how you make me feel,
Am I hanging from the sill or perched on the edge?
Am I really who I think I am?
Or is this all an illusion?
That would make sense,
For you're way too perfect,
And the thought, just the thought,
That perfect you likes imperfect me,
Is just so…
I just really don't know.
And just how do you expect me to?
Your gaze, through your…
Wait, no, I can't think…
Your expression melts me to pieces,
It's just so…