You aren't blind. Your eyes are simply sheathed beneath a sheet of tragedy.

I'm still amazed.
Conflicting feelings spread their wings in my mind, body, and soul,
And I'm dazed.

I walk around feeling the sound of your voice in my head,
And the thought of your sadness lays upon my mind like lead,
But I'm happy you appeared,
Out of the blue and interfered with that slow contentedness filled with the moving flow of contention
That led me to acquiesce to the state of my conflicted head,
As a welcome result of you.

I do not fear the risk of rejection.
Or, more accurately, I am willing to feel that fear for the sake of affection,
And in order to see your complexion with an extroverted introspective inspection,
And say with frail and honest intention, that you are far better lacking the lie that is perfection,

But that's just it.

The idea of perfection lies in accepting exception as opposed to seeking deception,
Which simply butchers perception as opposed to embracing the reception of a soul,
Regardless of the shape it may be in.

I do not intend to be a spin doctor.
More honor lies in leaving all the ardor unfiltered like sea water.

And yes, I'm sorry.
But not sorry in the sense that my instincts took the offense...
More in the sense that I couldn't find it within myself to conjure up a defense.
Because instinct is a form of common sense and an immense pretense that in many ways,
Is unavoidable.

And I refuse to let it coil up within my mind and spoil the emotional oil
Which fuels
How I feel
For you.

In many ways, I am a hopeless romantic with plenty of self-control,
And I intend to console your soul
To the very best of my ability.

So like you said,
Watch the stars in your head,
And try to see infinity.
It may also help you to realize that you, yourself
Are an intrinsically beautiful human being.

And perhaps,
One day,
You'll see what I've been seeing.