Days were spent pondering, and deep into the night,
Wondering what to put in the note, thinking what to write.
How could he possibly confess his true love for her,
He'd rather do it now, then regret how things ever were.
Three bags of wide-ruled paper now lie upon his desk top,
A new bag of black pens, promising that he wouldn't stop,
At least not until a perfect note was written, addressed only to she,
He would express his feelings, dreaming on how things may be.
His first piece of paper was quickly used up,
As he wrote how he wanted to be instead merely her "B.F.F."
"I'd much rather be the one in her life without that extra 'F'", he thought in his mind,
"Hopefully the rest will go smoothly, and all things will go just fine."
The entire first pack of paper was used up, then quickly thrown away,
He just couldn't fit the words together, expressing what he needed to say.
Another twenty pages disappeared, as his pen began spewing out ink,
Rushing to grab another pen, he told himself "this is harder than you think."
By this time, his hands were sweaty, he was trying to cool off,
Butterflies flew in his stomach, as he began to nervously cough.
Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be, expressing thoughts by use of pen,
And he took a break, flipping through channels on T.V. in his family's den.
The genres of romance only made him begin to tear,
"I'll never be with her now," he began to seriously fear.
The comedy shows didn't make him laugh, he simply was not in the mood,
Nor did the horror shows, for his fears would then allude.
He dreamed again, oh if only it were fate,
How he would be so satiate.
Perhaps the thought of chowing on food,
Might help calm his desperateness, might help him to elude.
Upon taking out something for a snack,
He then remembered that was her favorite food, and he put it back.
Plopping upon the couch one last time,
Made him finally realize that everything would be just fine.
He stared at the television set very long and hard,
His fears at one time were slowly getting marred.
He was simply viewing an everyday movie,
But the plot of that storyline was what had made him truly see.
He at once ran back to his chair behind the desk,
No longer feeling any sort of kafkaesque.
He used up the last of his second pack of papers,
Deciding just how to put it all in words.
However, into his third pack, all was well in the end,
He perfected his note to her, saying how he'd much rather be more than just a friend.
He wrote it in his best handwriting, so neat and legibly,
He was jumping up for joy, feeling alive and very much free.
He slipped it in an envelope, and addressed it directly to her,
This time things were finally going right, he felt so very sure.
Days and nights had passed and gone, without a single word of reply,
One day opening the mail, he saw something and stared with a disbelieving sigh.
It was his letter, the note to that one special girl,
He glanced solemnly at a sticker attached, that had started to unfurl.
"Return to Sender", was the simply bit of reply,
"No Known Address", was read, and he began to cry.
During this summer, many things were changing,
Apparently now though, his whole life was rearranging.
His fears were overcome, but for no known reason at all,
His crush for years had seemed to have moved, now tears really had started to fall.
He spent all that time, fretting on what to say,
Now it seems as though all plans had begun to silently stray.
He had just confessed his pure love, so innocent and true,
Spilling out his secrets all,
And she never knew.