Hey artist. Come and steal my heart away. Plant it somewhere greener. Or grow another in its’ place. I’m not much to look at and I’m even less to “talk” to. But I have at least a little bit to offer. There’s no one with whom I’d rather share each day. Seems like the week’s life expectancy is dropping each week. Sundays decay into Sundays. I blink and Monday’s gone. With it goes another chance to live. I’ll kick myself for not acting sooner. Each time I find I’ve wasted time. I want to prove something. I want that chance. I need to prove something. Get up. Get off my ass. The old anxieties beat me back down each time. Sometime soon I’ll plow right through them. Leave destruction in my path. It’s fear of rejection vs. fear of destruction. “Awkward advances would surely ruin this”. So sings the devil on my shoulder. The angel’s on the other but he isn’t speaking quite as loud. But I’ll attune an ear to his words someday. I’ll conquer the demons keeping me down. If it means a chance to waste my time wasting time with you. But no time spent with you would be a waste. I only pray you feel the same. That you’ll reciprocate. Because I fear I’ve killed these chances with the agony of the wait. If I don’t take this shot then I’ve already missed. **** it. I’ll plunge right in. The water may be cold but I’d rather freeze to death than never swim.