I am an optimist disguised as a pessimist
who hoards many flaws.
And in the cracks and crevices of my heart
bleeds out a sad love song.
It keeps the rhythm of my veins
at a steady pace.
I hear love keeps one alive.
But the sadness rushes to my face
like a shy blush as he walks by.
The mounds of flaws crowded my mind
so for a moment I forgot how to speak.
After all, a hoarder never shows the mess
but an optimist is never weak.
So I threw love bait hoping he'd latch on
but the line wasn't long enough.
I guess I'm just a love pessimist
constantly calling my own bluff.