Original Poetry Fan Fiction ❯ To he who confuses me the most... ❯ Chapter 1

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Did you ever find yourself falling in love with someone you hardly know, someone who you absolutely cannot have for whatever reason? I hate the helpless feeling I get in such a situation... my thoughts about him put into lyrical prose.

Miscellaneous: Original Poetry Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Poetry | Uploaded On: 01.09.2009 | Pages: 3 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 556 | Status: Work In Progress

To he who confuses me the most,

Is it not enough that I think about you all the time?

That my ability to focus at all has been destroyed?

That I am losing sleep over you?

That I turn a corner, hoping you are around it?

That I blush just slightly when I see you?

You are my philosophy,

my code I currently live by.

Everything has changed for me

just because you are alive and I now realize it.

In my mind, you and I form a figure eight

with all I have known thus far swirling about us.

Somehow, you have met my subconscious criteria,

most likely without even knowing it.

I want to speak your name all the time,

and you mine.

I have yet to understand my deepest thoughts,

but this I know: you are in them.

I see you and I lose control of my line of thinking.

It always leads to you.

You are the prevailing idea in me.

I cannot read,

I cannot write,

I cannot speak

without painfully trying to move you back

farther within my head.

You distract me from most everything,

but hardly anything distracts me from you.

Night falls and I am left awake,

at the mercy of my restless heart.

In darkness reality slips away,

true colors drain

and the world inside my head comes to life.

The hopeless romantic in me envisions you at my side.

You hold me close, tenderly,

head buried in the crown of my head

drinking in the essence of me.

I turn in your arms to face you,

fingers splayed across your chest,

with my eyes fixed upon yours.

My mind unravels my version of what our connection could be.

Could but never will.

Now I'm seeing you in places where you don't quite belong,

where you may not have a real reason for being.

You made an excuse, I recall,

about something that did not concern you,

and you walked just behind me so very close

—a few more inches and we would have touched.

There you were in that stairwell,

passing thirty-some others, but only smiled at me,

me specifically.

As I walk through those doors

every day on my way to class, there too you are,

turning towards me, meeting my eyes.

But I always think that perhaps

I'm only seeing things this way because I want to

—maybe it's nothing but my imagination.

Know that not everyone can confuse me like this;

make me run myself in circles.

You stir emotions in me that I scarcely knew I had.

Looking at you makes my stomach knot

and my heart flutter.

Talking to you causes my hands to shake ever so slightly.

If I could be with you,

I think I would melt blissfully away.

It is beyond difficult to yearn for what I cannot have.

I wonder if you think of me how I think of you,

or if you think of me at all in any way?

Do I seem to you different from all the others,

or am I just another one of them?

Have you ever written to me as I'm now writing to you,

only to set it aside or discard it?

You find your way into my dreams,

but do I make my way into yours?

Have you any idea how you make me feel?!

I wonder,

do you forget me when the day is done,

or do I maybe

—any shred of chance that I perhaps possibly—

linger?

Sincerely,