Sometimes when we touch

You ask me if I love you, and I choke on my reply. I'm rather hurt you honestly than mislead you with a lie.

 And who am I to judge you on what you say or do. I'm only just beginning to see the real you. Romance and all its strategy, leaves me battling with my pride.

But through the insecurity some tenderness servives.

I'm just another writer still trapped within my truths A hestitant Prize fighter still trapped within my youth.

At times I understand you, and I know how hard you've tried.

I've watched while love commands you and I've watched Love pass you by. At times I think we're drifters, Still searching for a friend, a brother or a sister.

But then the passion flares again.