Like a moth to a flame.  

Infatuation, a soft high, enough to cloud judgement. 

Heightened senses, smell, taste, sight, touch.

Time almost suspended, every moment precious, every moment meant to savor.

The giggles, the light brown eyes, the soft hair – etched into my memory.

With him, life perceived so fully through the senses, a potential illusion?  

Delusion perhaps? I can’t be certain.

Intellectual exchanges domed by my insecurities. 

My anxiety now at it’s peak. 

How can I impress him? 

My intellect seemingly inferior. 

Frustrating self-doubt.

No, forget that.

Why am I having these thoughts?

Conflicted and confused, pressure mounts inside,

An involuntary burst of unregulated emotion…and freeze. 

Delayed reactions followed by delayed responses. 

When will my brain catch up with my body’s impulses.

Articulate expression is a delicate craft. 

I chose, fully immersed.

Unaware of the stakes.

It takes.

It takes.

It takes.

I thought I knew better.

I guess hanging out with a child for so long, turns you into a child. 

That story has ended and its time for me to move on. 

I am not like him. I am not a child. 

I forgive, I’m forgiven.

I learn, I move on.

Today I write. Pen to paper is all I have. Bits to these electrical signals, racing through pieces of metal to encode my story. 

Do you hear me? 

Is there a song to go with this story? Drop a line in the comments if there is and I will check it out! 🙂