In every way I’ve attempted, failing,
Like a falling man with his arms flailing,
To find the words to tell you exactly how I feel.
I think of us a simple duo,
Complex, yet simply true though.
We should soon know one another,
Like two oranges without their peels.

Yet it is too soon to speak,
Of naked, raw, mortal meat.
But that metaphor, in reason,
Can true and rightly stand.
Though, dear, if you would ask me,
I would tell you what exactly
would happen, if it even came to pass.
I would smile slightly coyly,
And in whisper gently, boyly,
I would tell you you are beautiful,
And then slap you on your ass.