Laugh if you may

I stare at the blank page,
and what do I see?
I see a sea of white,
just laughing at me.

No one likes my poems anyway,
so who cares what I say?
I could give up writing right now,
I bet no one would miss me.

Should I give up rhyming?
It's hard to say.
No one likes the words,
but still people call me gay.

I can't help it sometimes,
there's one reason I write,
I just want her to know how I feel,
when my throat gets to tight.

I write when I can't say,
laugh at me if you may,
call me gay,
soft,
sensitive even.

I'm not so smooth with words,
I'm more in my league here,
I love her, I do,
so go ahead, and call me queer.
'
'tis be my last words,
she won't read them anyway,
so like a flock of birds,
i'm not here to stay