Sacred

I'm afraid, that I won't be able to be of use,

When I'm needed,

It's this fear that keeps me distant.

Two different worlds, one of vineyards and one of quilts in winter with hot tea.

What I feel for you is very sacred, 

And if you want 

Has the potential of becoming very dirty.

A chasm, of social divides, between us,

A mountain of survival

And I have realised the futility of climbing it.

Yet, I'll climb the mountain, to convince myself that I deserve you, or die trying. 

Some birds mate for life,

Some men become lonely for a lifetime.

It could've been that I could've shown you the world of quilts and hot tea in winters, and taken you to vineyards where they display quotes of rockstars who die young.

My dignity stops me from crossing the chasm of social divide, and yet I'm yours.

Consider me your geisha, who has stories to tell, 

Consider me your slave, your who*e, your anything,

Just consider me yours.