They say there's a thin line between love and hate,
I wish I'd listened to those words so many months ago to save me from heartache.

They've called me heartless and unkind, but the way my heart's been beating lately-I have to believe it's a good sign.

The days with little touch have become short and nights way too long.
Because what my heart and body crave can only be content around him.
All that really keep me company are these love poems.

My mind can't grasp these mixed feelings, and if I could control them, I would chose not to.

For my palms get sweaty and shaky, my nerves are heightened, and I'm aware or his every presence.

Is this being happy?