I want to give him butterflies.
I want to make him blush.
I want to make his heart tickle like mine does.
Well, actually, my whole body feels tingly.
I want to take him on a date and treat him to what he wants.
I want him to know he's the only one I see.
I want to put a smile on his face.
Make him laugh, hear him laugh.
I want him to feel all the things he makes me feel.
All the butterflies,
All the times my breath leaves me,
my heart skips, hopscotches, cartwheels, somersaults, dives into nervous happiness.
All of the times, the blood rushes to my right ear because, for some reason, I don't blush like a normal person.
All the smiles he paints on,
All of the laughs he plants,
All of the confidence he douses,
I want to do it all for him.
I want to remind him of his handsomeness and meaning.
I want to do it.
He's desiresble.
His broken pieces are pulled together and sealed with gold.
I don't know much about him.
I'm impatiently waiting to learn.
Super impatient. I want to talk to him all the time.
I keep telling myself to relax. I keep telling myself it'll come with time.
I just want him to know he's worthy. He's worth it.
And if he allows me to, maybe,
I will get to make him all flustered and blush.
I will treat him to a nice meal.
I will be able to sweep him off his feet.
I'll wipe any tear conjured from his hazel eyes.
I want to give him butterflies.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Joy
PoetryI never spent time seeking joy. I only spent time making a bed comfortable enough in sadness to bare it. Now, I'll see and work at finding joy. This is a continuation of "We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human".
