If I knew what to do

If I knew what I would have to do...

I'd do it.

If I knew what to say...

I would say it.

If I knew what to give...

I would give it.

If I knew what you needed I would find a way...

I would find a way.

Tell me you want me to wait and see what happens. Tell me to spend years proving myself and baby, no problem, I got this. It would be a breeze, it would be a pleasure, an honor. A small price to pay for a chance.

Tell me that you feel nothing. Tell me I never had a chance. Tell me you don't want me. Tell me the idea of me loving you makes you cringe. Tell me I'm not your type, you could never love someone like me, there will never ever be anything between us... and I will make it stop.

I can. I can do anything. I actually can stop loving you. Just a little bippity boppity boo... and just like that I'm over you. Sure, the memory will linger. I will always know what I felt... but it will sit in that box with all the worldly things that someone like me can never have. It will sit with the sorrows of my childhood. The long list of the fallen. The animals that died in my arms. The eternal aloness of my life. The otherness that will always be. It will be packed away like all the rest. A soft sorrow... and not this all consuming desire and love.

But tell me, please tell me, that part of you jumps with joy to hear that I love you, that I dream of you, that all my poetry, all my words, are about you... and I will suffer no more. I will be happy to wait and hope that things will fall into place and we will be something incredible together.

Just... don't make something up to protect me. I have never ever needed anyone's protection, save for my Lady.... Tell me one or the other, but I beg you to tell me the truth and let me decide what is worth my suffering and what is a waste of my talent in the art of bearing all pain.