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Honesty is such a foreign concept.
Whispers of half-truths have begun to thrust me upon insanity.
To hold you so tenderly is a desire so dear to me.
All I want is you wanting me, and promises that we can be.

But the essence of me refuses to
show you how my thoughts resonate so completely,
and my constant blush betrays my secret fancies.
And so goes on, my ongoing struggle.
How can I admit to such notions whilst I'm so uncertain of your own reservations?

Speak frank with me, hold back nothing.
Because in my pursuit of honesty
speaking with you will be freely.
The butterflies fluttering, causing tremors throughout
are put forth by your heroic words.
And your title shall be held by none other.
It was crafted for you.
Prince of my heart.