It's only been over two months
since we met; I want to spout
a thousand clichés.
I think my organs could
burst from excitement;
my heart would go first.
Do I feel my blood rushing?
I might be losing my breath.
Is my childhood asthma
coming back, spurred on
by your mere existence?
The tattoo artist's needle
did not make me feel
as much emotion as you do.
Full sleeves, in vivid color,
could not come close.
It is not that you bring me
pain; rather, you bring me
so much joy that my body
can barely contain it.
It makes me terrified.
I know I trust you, but
do I know if I can trust you?
I want to, I need to;
my brain screams that you
are that mythical creature --
a dragon/phoenix hybrid --
the one.
I don't know what I am
supposed to do.
I could fall apart, bones
and sinew on the floor,
from all the thoughts
in my mind.
One day, I want to show
you this, and say,
"See? I've always
felt this way.
I always will."