I have stared into his eyes.
I can't tell if I am dreaming.
Inside my head,
my insecurities are reeling,
stirring hidden feelings.
He's piqued my curiosity
and left my senses tingling.

I have stared into the darkness
of this endless sea of ceiling
above my head. . .
my insecurities are kneeling,
begging for redeeming.
Is this too good to be true
or can I start believing?

We have stared into the darkness
of each other's shattered past.  
Despite my head
he has stood up to the task.
I take comfort in the feeling of
the sound of his heart beating;
he taunts my desires into bleeding.

I have stared into his eyes
every time that I am dreaming.
He's in my head. . .
I cannot shake the feeling
or understand the meaning
of how one unlikely meeting
bloomed into synchronous bliss.