When I write,
I wonder if you would
Like the pen Im using
Because of the melody
It plays as it glides
Across the page.

When I talk to you,
I question if you plucked
The words from my brain
Because you knew
I would like them.

You are still an unknown.
As much as it scares me
I wouldn't turn away from
Whatever this is.
We may be strangers still,
But I hope with time that changes.

Even stranger still that
When I reach the bottom
Of my pint at the bar,
I wish it was your lips
Pressing against mine
Instead of the glass.