Guilt-ridden Butterflies

You're a boy
who mixes butterflies and guilt
The brush of a hand
a twirling of fingers
And a gaze that makes me stop.
And think
What would he do?
Would he gamble with the chances,
Would he choose to play it safe?
Would this feeling make a difference?
Would he stand strong in his place?
Would he give into temptation,
Would he stay my one, my true?
What would he say to me?
Stay with me?
What would he say to you?