Questioning Heart

I see you, my heart flutters,

dances,

jumps around wildly and

I'm always sure you can see it.

Do you?

See it, I mean?

And not just my trembling heart,

but everything else, too.

The way I watch you,

or, you know, swiftly glance at you,

then, just as quickly,

look away again,

pretend to watch the TV,

the people around us,

the night sky,

anything so you won't suspect.

The way I casually brush against you,

briefly touching your hand,

your arm,

but never holding onto you,

the way I really want to.

Do you know that?

That I just want to reach out

And take your hand?

Or, better yet, have you reach out,

have you take my hand,

have you hold onto me.

Sometimes, but only sometimes,

few and far between,

I think, maybe, just perhaps,

there's something there,

a spark, a feeling, a flame

that's not mine,

but yours.

Is it yours?

Is there something on your side, too?

Or am I just imagining it,

Hoping beyond hope, vainly, foolishly?

I want so badly for there to be something there,

something special, something real,

but I just don't know.

Do you?

-Saoirse