Eyes haunt me in the dark of the night.
Eyes I want, eyes that watch me in the waking hours and eyes endlessly open to the idea of a silly theory entitled me.
Eyes that sparkle when they see my face, wanted and held once more, eyes so new yet eyes I feel I've tied around my heart for a thousand years.
Poetic words lead my lips astray, darkening the colors of a blossoming attraction into the gray undertones of possible love, fantasizing too much and trying too little.
Lips I know he looks and at wonders how they’d feel painted across his soul, my warm touch against his and a dance I have long forgotten strewn across the bedroom.
Fingers grasp at mine from all directions, yet his are the ones I find in the fray.
I hold tight, wanting so badly for the future, savoring so heavenly the present.
Disjoint, we are so new, but the possibilities of a condescending maybe are too strong for once for me to dismiss.
Maybe. Maybe is the only word I need to live off, a maybe for him, for his eyes, for his lips, for his fingers entwined with mine.
All I need is maybe for my heart to fly.