I am an optimist disguised as a pessimist 

who hoards many flaws.

And in the cracks and crevices of my heart 

bleeds out a sad love song.

It keeps the rhythm of my veins

at a steady pace.

I hear love keeps one alive.

But the sadness rushes to my face 

like a shy blush as he walks by.

The mounds of flaws crowded my mind

so for a moment I forgot how to speak.

After all, a hoarder never shows the mess

but an optimist is never weak.

So I threw love bait hoping he'd latch on

but the line wasn't long enough.

I guess I'm just a love pessimist 

constantly calling my own bluff.