I am strong,
or so I think.
With you, however,
those thoughts begin to shrink.
Those cute blue eyes,
and that goofy smile that could make tungsten fold…
that heart of yours made of diamond,
and your hand in mind feeling like handling gold.
I can workout all I want.
Make walls of pure obsidian.
Shut out all things that weaken me,
yet your presence would shatter those barriers into oblivion.
So yes, I may be strong.
I may turn away from things that make me feel like poo,
but in your company, no matter the strong facade I try to show,
I can’t ignore that good feeling of being weak with you.
