When is it that honesty will take hold of fear and allow me to pour my heart out to her? What is it that cost so much time waiting for her to speak with me like lovers do? How is it that every time I see her I still get butterflies and my eye's still seem to get caught up on her? Where do I go from here? It seems like fate has a cruel way of allowing me to reach out to those of whom I can not touch. There is this pain in my soul like the voided space between soft embrace and sure things that I just cant let go. I go so slow so as not to approach her abrupt with my obsessive attire. So I stand here alone waiting on the time place to lay out this bold hand I've been dealt so I can show her face value. "Why do I spend so much hope on love?"