We are bent on making a good impression
As we try bringing our A Game to the table
Raising germane topics in the conversations
In the hope of displaying a slightly better version
Of who I really am, and who I am in your opinion

Even so, I consistently fall in the same trap
My mind always buzzing and I say what is on my heart
Wrapped in nervousness, I am the same opinionated
But it comes off as if I were completely demented
Or at least that is what I pick up on my deportment

And all of sudden that is when you make me realize
Even in my most unusual state, you are able to recognize
That I have never been more myself than when I have butterflies
You glimpse at my soul as I look into your eyes, and your verdict
Nothing sweeter than me being picture-imperfect.

In my prattle
A smitten gal
In my silence
A heart flutter
In my chuckle
A nervous soul
In my tremble
A happy fool
In my gape
A riveting thought
In my jiggle
My interest shown

An example of old saying
Butterfly wings flapping
Hearing birds singing
All written on my skin
When persuaded to fail
A closer look into the realm
For beneath the *******
I had nothing to worry
Because you were still able
To see right through me.

The universe is testing me
It did not inquire
When there was plenty
Of opportunity

It picked the right timing
That it could not be
Rather unmistakably
More unfitting

Had I been asked before
I would have been certain
About my answer
But now I am bewildered

How am I to dismiss
When each time
The suspension is tempting

How can it come to an end
When soon enough
Never seems to arrive late

A clash with the universe
As it forces me to reassess
The choices
I am about to make
When really
I should not be
Doubting

Even for just a second.

Passion is filling a void
That can never overload
Words flowing incessantly
But the glass always seems
Like it is running empty
Though a nod of satisfaction
When a piece is done
As soon as you think enough
You are once again a sponge
It is the people you adore
The new ideas you absorb
The tranquility you then feel and
A piece of paper becomes a thrill
You will not ever turn weary
Passion is fuel in the ordinary
Your own sun rising daily
Even when inspiration is lacking
All you wish to do is feed on
Words that acquire a life of their own
Hoping to be a channel
Of the change they enable
Words are more than what is needed
More than what you love and covet
Only writing can be result and seed
The cure and the cause that sees
Why passion keeps your feet on the ground
And rockets your soul to a higher ground.