He sat with pen in hand,

Heart racing like his favorite TV program,

Trying to put to verse,

His feelings for his crush.

He thought of all the times,

They'd shared a laugh or smile,

And how her eyes would shine,

Making his heart beguile.

He thought of all the words,

He wished he could have said,

Of how he dreamed of the ability,

To speak easily with her.

He wrote of love and longing,

Of a future bright and true,

But as he read it over,

It all felt so cliche and blue.

He crumpled up the paper,

And tossed it in the trash,

Feeling like a failure,

For not being able to express.

But as his thoughts ran away away,

He imagined her voice so sweet,

Saying "I thought you were brave,

For even trying to speak."

And in that moment,

He realized it's true,

Being brave is not about perfection,

But about being true to you.

If something doesn't work once, don't try it twice (with the same person). Or as Richard Bach says, "If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were."