``It doesn't make sense,'' you told me,
But I didn't see why.
``It doesn't make sense,'' you see,
But you began to cry.
``It doesn't make sense,'' you state,
That I should feel the way I do,
``It doesn't make sense,'' you prate,
That all the rest are the same as you.
It doesn't make sense! I'll agree!
But that's no cause to fail to see
That it oft' times takes different eyes,
To realize...
With those I've had since I was born,
I've seen so much; but my sense was torn
When upon, within your beauty I dared to peer,
My heart was opened, and pierced with the welcomed spear.
It wouldn't make sense, if I my silence kept,
But when once again, my feelings found my voice,
The warmth I gave made you shiver, and you wept.
What is now again, yet less, a mystery, gives halt to my rejoice.
It does make sense, upon reflection,
That opening your heart leads in uncertain direction.
A vulnerability in darkness makes concern a must,
But the path is lit, with openness and trust.
It does make sense, that I should tell you how I feel,
But I fear somehow I wound you, though before your happiness I kneel.
I cannot use words to show you what I feel inside--
There is no light, so by my sense I cannot abide.
