Still broken down and reeling.
I saw her in crowded room.
She made me nervous,
till I caught my breath.

Every love poem in the past year,
owe a special kind of thanks to her,
To the one of unmatched beauty.
Sultry eyed with a cute gleam of a smile.

She complimented me, then said I was "intimidating".
Honestly that honesty surprised me.
I am me, Mr. Nice-Guy finishing last.
being five nine and a half never inspired fear before.

Drunk at a party, I wouldn't hit on her.
So many people do that with their liquid courage.
That would be an insult to her.
So I did the hardest thing to do, Nothing.

This isn't poetry, this isn't a love story.
This is a tragedy that burns rather slowly.
Though as I wait, I hope that to be a lie.