I've sensed you, 

for your aura sets my senses asked. 

The feeling is all so new. 

What's the chance of my newfound curiosity being refused? 

The ones that grew, 

from the plane you sent me to. 

Could I ask for proof? 

A glance? A peek? 

Though unable of intentions 

and often meek.

Though weak of will and ill at heart; 

I rose, a stain imprinted from

where I'd layn in the dark. 

And from where I hid it was quite unclear, 

the thought of you seemed to queer. 

Reservations return and I wonder why I tried. 

I know unworthiness lingers in my eyes, 

but am I wrong for wanting a clear sign? 

But surely you'll dismiss me in readiness,

laughing at the heaviness of my tears, 

egging on my various fears.