You whom I cannot name

I have never seen you wearing heels,
no matter what the other person feels,
or growing too long a fingernail,
which women are too eager to reveal.

True, I have known so little about you,
but I haven't seen you angry or frustrated,
which is a quality within you
that by me is most appreciated.

Oh, how much I wonder what else there is
to know about a beautiful lady that is.
Is this what they call a deep crush,
which would only make my face blush?

Caught I am in a dilemma right now,
about whether or not I should confess how
I feel about you, I wonder what you'll say,
and get my heart caught in a fray.

How long will I be stuck, oh God?
Will my people ever understand,
that I am a bird in a mental cage,
or that I am too old for my age?
What should I say to convince them that
my goals are only too high, not flat?

Is only this generation unique,
stretched, alone and off oblique,
or is it me that is thinking so,
because I feel depressed and low?

Do you know whom I am writing about, o girl,
or are you even reading this pearl?
I want you to know and yet I don't
because if you do, be free I won't.