The thought of you, a storm brewing in my chest,
a tempest of excitement, dread its undertow.
Avoiding you, a practiced art,
a choreography etched in my subconscious.

Your presence, an earthquake tremor,
heart a hummingbird trapped in my ribcage,
palms slick with a sweat born of fear.
My body, a traitor, whispering warnings
of the danger lurking in your gaze.

I flit from conversation to conversation,
a moth drawn to the pale flicker of lesser lights,
afraid to meet the blaze of your sun.
I fear the inevitable pull,
your beauty a gravitational force,
a magnetic field that defies logic and reason.

The thought of your eyes, a precipice,
a drop into the unknown, a terrifying surrender.
To be near you, a gamble I can't afford,
a risk that could shatter everything I hold dear.

Confession hangs, a poisoned apple,
tempting, dangerous, a forbidden fruit.
To tell you the truth, a seismic shift,
an eruption of unspoken longing,
a declaration of war against my own heart.

But until then, I dance around you,
a phantom in the shadows,
a ghost of a love I cannot name.
For now, silence is my shield,
a fortress built on fear and unspoken yearning.


© matthewwwebster