I let myself bleed freely though discreetly
Till none is left but a numb, plastic feel
Then how is it that when he walks by,
Without me even turning my head,
My heart begins to thud uncontrollably?
Any who would hear my tale,
Would seek to advice me against
And do I not myself know,
What consequences my imaginations might entail
Yet it isn’t my head or my heart provoking me,
It is simply, purely, chemical
An attraction I’m unable to pull away from,
Getting deeper as the hours tick by
No extraordinary things are said or done
The poor man doesn’t even have a clue
And yet moments I cherish are the ones
Where the distance between us is less than a feet
Whatever should I do to quench these baseless, harmful reactions?
Should I let my head and heart run riot and let them throw me under the bus?
Or should I resign myself,
That of my own accord, one day, I’ll go completely insane?