What it is about him
I don't know.
His tousled caramel hair
or his star filled gaze?
Or is it the ripe lips

that produce harmony
that even Mozart would consider impressive?
Maybe it's the skyscrapers

that stock over one another
and create a duplicate of New York
over his sturdy biceps.
I stare wonder-eyed
at his dancing fingers.
They glide and flex,
and perform a beautiful ballet.
His skin glows a beautiful medium
And the flawless stature draws many intriguing glances.
The God heeded in the path leading toward me.
My heart involuntarily soars

thousands of miles above,
And the monstrous hormones become evident.

3 feet.

2 feet.

1 feet.
My heart stops pounding,
My lips fuse together,
as our eyes silently sing a duet.

And then my eyelids touch each other,
and I fall into a deep sleep filled with Anxiousness
for I was DEAD.