He

I want to kiss his cliche
and make him mine,
while sucking his
fear away.
I look at the words I write
and cross them out,
and begin again.
and again
ending with a blank page
much like I do
when I am with him
and want to say
all the clever things
to make him stay.

He is complicated
as a spiderweb,
as distant as the moon,
and I would follow him
to the stars
and wait for his return.
He is hope
and innocence,love and time.
I would go to him
with open hands
and beg him to be mine.

But I have no spark
to ignite his flame for me

So days move on,
and he sees me
with my happy facade,
and does not ask to hear
what I have to say.