You know it burns my pale skin
When you look at me like that?

Sure, my cheeks glow like red carnations,
but every time you watch me with your
Penetrative Eyes, I feel an onrush of defamation.

You've already perched me up on a plinth,
so you've told me many times,
but where is the line
Between admiration and infatuation?

What do I do but blush
and force my gaze to my feet?

Still, no relief.
I worry, I do--but never in the same way I worry
When any other man looks at me.

Hand on the wheel, staring straight ahead,
You burn through my skull,
and I sense you trespassing in my head.
Uncharted territory.

Have you found your destination
When you sigh and utter a sweet name?

Somewhere in my soul I feel it too.
Your hand strums stringent strings
in me better than it does your shoe.

So, what do I do?
To you I am an open book,
but you're always reading between the lines.
I think the only antidote is Time.

Brinn W.