I beg your pardon for my intrusions,
But i am unable to resist.
It is no more than a mask of emotions,
A collection of which that will not desist.
You are my friend and quite dear,
Particularly for your humor, as dry as a desert.
A simple thing to laugh till i tear,
When you quip off remarks without reserve.
Please do not be put off by my attention,
There are a select few that I concern myself over.
To most i am a bastard without reservation,
Although some i cannot help to worry over.
I am troubled to write such words,
As they may betray a design I did not seek.
To declare a love yearned for would be too cheek,
As the personal loss would pale before an action so awkward.
To make a proposition of tender feelings,
Which i confess to own,
Would invite a response i would bemoan,
A rejection of my love and friendship would leave me reeling.
I love you dearly for the woman you are,
Yet i cannot confess my inclination.
Admitting to the truth would be an invitation
To lose the camaraderie that provides such rich fare.
Far better my current approach,
Being a tongue-tied friend,
Knowing that your interests typically tend
Toward men of finer looks and without reproach.