ballerino boy.
One of these days you can teach me how to dance...
And up until then, I'll have flowers in my hands.
Because who says a boy like you, can't appreciate a bouquet?
You'll probably return them at a later date...
You'll want me to see how quickly they can fade.
And you'll say, 'Always smile, don't let yourself go that way.'
You make tough boys look like paper bags,
with the grace and balance, ballerino; of thin, tumbling plastic.
I can barely stand on my two feet,
let alone on one...
Maybe we can trade our trades,
if I get my courage up.
I want to feel your lips curl against mine, in this numb...winter...
I barely can lift eye-contact...can't stop giggling over dumb things...
You tell me that Mary Poppins said, 'I love to laugh!'
You tell me that I'm not crazy, we're all strange.
I want to steal that smile, but I can't stop looking at it, long enough to grasp it.
Please don't leave me; stay for this season,
stay for our rocket summer; and stay for our performance.
My ballerino.
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