I'm starting at the finish line,
Head spins, blood flushes through
Adrenaline bolting than sound.
Am I late blooming?

Dried Leaves seem young.
Ecstasies dance off my guts.
As I dine to the feel of butterflies
While being swept off my feet

My heart now leads my brain.
The suspense of romance persists.
Obvious mistakes embed to the core.
I guess I'm losing control.

Entanglement of emotions,
The fear to hurt is now the compass.
As the globe shrinks so small
I guess I'm a late bloomer.