The Clucking Bull

She is what I would call,
A cocaine, a drug that makes us crawl,
But I have never taken any at all,
Not that I would know of, at least I think that's all,
Fragile, white, like a porcelain doll,
Intoxicating me with a presence, enough to make me fall,
Like cocaine, like alcohol,
She is addictive, she's nice, she's a beautiful sight, I recall

But that was the beginning, my audience,
She have bathed me in her radiance,
She have showered me in happiness,
She has left me breathless,
For I could not believe that anyone, for once,
would want someone as worthless,
as ridiculous, as mediocre in appearance,
Like a person like me, it slaps me with an unholy force.

But slowly, these days, now and then,
I have these inherent thinking where and when,
Or what will happen,
Should the day comes when we would split, be broken,
Like a twig under a summer's sun,
crushed underneath the legs of children,
And strangers we shall be, decidedly being different,
A word, an email, seldom be penned,
Not anymore, not for her,
And our lives will be back as before,
Where I am living the average, cold, restrained,
And she would be in another nation,
Because we wouldn't be meant,
for each other should that ever happen.

But by golly, my unfaithful audience,
I would be damned in all sense,
If I would ever let her go just like that, with zero reasons,
Would we be friends?
Would we, like before, together, like before the fence,
That barred us, a guard with its spiking green lance,
The only thin line of defense,
Against the feelings that are immense,
And let the climbing commence,
As I drop all of my fear, my pretense,
To see you on the other side of the fence.

I would never let that happen,
I do not want it to end,
Were it within my domain,
of power, I would fight, I would restrain,
I would receive the pain,
I would not care whether I go insane,
Or be whacked to death by a stalk of sugar cane,
I still want to be with you, to be in the train,
Ignoring every Dick and Harry and Jane,
And sit with your head on my shoulder, your beautiful mane,
The warmth of your body, like spark on methane,
The heat of the flames, like a summer in Spain.