Sitting Hear Poem by Sam Smith

Sitting I glare,
Thinking I may dare,
To look at you and stare.

To see if you would share,
Your time with me, but bear.
Your body is mine. Would it be fare?

To me you'd snare,
Yet I would still glare,
At your body so fair.

At your eyes, and my hair.
Then fuse our lips to run out of air.
And then give you a ring to ware.

Then I'd be yours, and yours alone.
And you'd be mine, and mine to own.