In That Second

My hands tingle.

I know I shouldn’t meet your eyes,
Eclipsed beneath your shaggy bangs,
Because after all,
Aren’t they the windows to my soul?
And when I gaze into your eyes anyway,
I’m sure that’s true.
And I’m sure that you see
How badly I - what?

What do I want?
I don’t know.
I don’t think I want to know.
But I do, that’s what’s so scary.

I’m mesmerized
By the ever so slight sway of your hips.
I know you’re smart and
I think you’re pretty
In a boyish sort of way.
I think you understand,
No doubt inherently,
What is funny to me.
I laugh and don’t even care
If you and I are the only ones who think so.
Oh my God, I’m swooning, aren’t I?
Like the way girls did over The Beatles.
Like the way boys do over the prom queen.

But that’s not the same, the voice
In the back of my head taunts.
This is wrong. So wrong. This isn’t natural.
You’re disgusting,
Freak.
Somehow, I mute that voice.
Though knowing for certain
It will return, domineeringly, later tonight.

I wonder what you would think?
Right know that’s the only thing that matters.
I realize this is what
All those love-sick songwriters
Meant by head over heels.

And then you look away.