I barely know you, yet ask,
Must reformation require your recognition,
Or is it identity?
A warm lonely night, a dusty steep plight,
A wish for a secret companion now;
A world lucid dreaming an unreal night,
A wasted desire for solitude’s “how”.
So you’re warm and lonely, and here I am,
So it’s a wish and a secret, a dream;
So you become the unreal night, Frodo’s Sam,
So solitude has cold respite, ice cream.
Loving the warmth means not forgetting pain,
Leaving the home is not resetting life,
Against the tide, struggle with night’s disdain,
Ask her her truths, feed off her lonely strife.
Never before have I been this afraid,
Now to ask you out, when my debts aren’t paid.
Meliora 