The Man with No Voice

I know a man with no money has no voice. I may not be able to do "things" for you, but as I look in your eye, I want to kiss you. Yet, I am scared of confessing the fire in my heart. I fear losing the friendship, or whatever it is we have, because I don't know our name. I want to hold you near, but the fear of rejection is a heavy cloak. I would rather like you from far and alone, not knowing what could be, because I think that's better—that way, no one gets hurt. I am not a beggar. I love my space. I love to be alone. I tolerate disrespect in those I still beg things from, and I smile to hide the anger I feel. I wonder what they would think if I stopped this roleplay and became the real me. They would think I am always sad or bad, but I would simply be tired of the act. I wish I hadn't started this fake play; maybe then they would have accepted the real me.