I think its those warm brown eyes
that have caused this paint of all different colours
to spill from my fingertips
but i can't wield it to explain how they make me feel.

and think theyre the source of these
butterflies in my chest
but they calm the storm in my stomach and i
think i could get lost if you let me.

the warmth of the americano you made me
i faltered
because it was like looking into those eyes
only the coffee cooling was in my hands
like your hands will never be.