A Random Tuesday Morning and I Think of You

The all consuming feeling of doubt,

Plaguing my mind with foggy hope;

Is this a crush or is he just a boy.

Is what I’m feeling just an imitation

Of what I see on all my friends.

Am I mirroring them, just for the sake of it,

Or does my quiet burn hold its own truth?

Watching their cherry faces and high pitched shrill,

When near the subject of their affections.

Her face likens to the sun—bright and joyful she is—

Seeing him anywhere in her peripheral.

Do I get this way?

While I myself,

Like the moon;

Always watching from the outside.

Never truly relating to such passion,

Forevermore echoing their ardor.

I reflect their joy, a borrowed glow,

But does that mean my feelings are real?

Or am I just playing the part,

Hoping the warmth will reach me too.

I cry out for someone to share my warmth.

My warmth is softer, quieter—

Not the searing fire of the sun,

But a gentle glow, patient and still.

Does anyone hear it?

Do they feel it like I do?

Now,

With a tentative flutter in my gut,

My skittish heart,

And my quaking knees.

I question,

Do I want a friend or a sweetheart.

I fear knowing the answer,

That this warmth I hold dear,

Might not be enough,

To keep the cold at bay.

I don’t think—I really don’t— want to know, I cannot plead for the answer.

Not now,

Not yet.