Poetry, Romantic

anticipation

i trip,
i stutter,
whenever you
turn your head
and smile.
i watch
the way
the light touches
your cheek. i blush,
and blame
it on the heat.
i know
you are not
for me–i am
young, foolish
and sometimes weak.
you rise like a phoenix,
astounding
those around you.
the anticipation
has me sick–
nausea strikes me
like lightening–
the growling
thunder of doubt
overcomes me
until all i
can do is
stay up all night
and dream of you.

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