They say if you sing at church it is twice the prayer, but does God hear me. Am I not sincere? I am not who I once was, yet I am still me, when I sing for you it is as if you turn away and hide your face of shame. When I sing I feel so alive, I feel like I am on cloud nine. I want to be the only one to sing to you, to sing your favorite tune and hope you would dance to my melody. A melody that is irreplaceable, unbreakable, and shows people you are my man of steel. My mother disapproves of my talent, disapproves of you, says I am better off alone, or lonely with the rest of the bitter world. Unlike you and me (a smidget of the world's population) we are not astringent, we are stronger than that, stronger than that of a hydrogen bond and more than the world could ever understand. You are me and I am you, I love you with all my heart and no amount of scowling, criticism or tradition will rebuke my mind. The thought of me and you is better than any hit of a bong; better than the sweetest sip of the finest wine, and better than the first kiss a young school girl had by the man of her fantasies. You are more than a fantasy, you are my reality and hopefully my future. So let me sing that cloying melody, that oh too sweet song, the song that will rot and decay the enamel of your overbite. The song that will keep us dancing for the remainder of our nights.