Returning from lunch, I see her round the corner. I expect it. Then why do I keep going this way? Why tempt myself?

My heart leaps awkwardly.

My knees weaken.

She waves and smiles.

Adrenaline kicks in, and I manage to....to....to...smile and half-grunt a monotone "hey."

"hey"?

What was I thinking?! I feel like an idiot. My courage failed me again. I can't even work it up enough to ask her one of the several questions I've created on my own time to see how she's doing. Dang.

And then my spirits were uplifted the remainder of the day. Meeting her devoured my personal insecurities.

Feelings

Harbored within myself

Upset my being:

The flood of emotions

On visual contact

Or with vaguest thought of conversation

Flush my cheeks,

Age my knees,

And sweep my coordination out to sea.

Where will this infatuation drive me? A few centuries ago, I would have been applauded for this despair and attraction, and for putting it into poetry. But I know better than that now. Is it healthy to be divulging my thoughts this way? Some would call it theraputic, but is it really, or am I simply wallowing in sinful desire? I need guidance, the kind only found in one place here on earth, and not from any human source.

A quick off-topic note: the more I think about this name I've chosen, the more I hate it. Though it expresses me well, it shows my failure to overcome my flesh. I'm ashamed of this nick now.

_.::Bryan::._

Words and pictures copyright slav2emoshns