Smitten, for he is a poem I have not yet written.

Both of us shy, and sore of lips from being bitten…

He got closer.

I stood contemplating my heart- my keys and letting him in…

A stranger at distance, and a lover to win.


I had considered because I want to live in his moment.

His eyes studied mine as he saw that I owned it.


Racing as I made the decision to speak,

Walking with strength in my legs though my knees had gone weak…

He blushed red.  I blushed bronze through my brown skin,

Grabbing my key hoping he’d know to come in.

He spoke,

And his voice still rings in my ear…

I took my own dare, and began my own cheer.

Curiosity has gave me birth instead of death,

Foreshadowing the moments we’ll share the same breath.

I reckon, that he felt the exact same flame,

Because his skin felt like fire when he reached and whispered his name.

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