in his mind he composes a dissertation on the many reasons his heart dances with the mere thought of her

he scribbles odes of need and desire into the electron void, hoping one will catch her eye and convince her of his value

falling, falling, into the forever of her gaze, a speck of dust in the whole of creation that is her

he deleted it, deletes them all, starting from scratch, to scratch that itch, to quell that desire bubbling forth like hope springing eternal

he reads the greats, he reads the failed, he retreads the roads long since grown over with daffodil blossoms and kernels of sum shower indifference

her every breath is poetry, her every move divine, her lips like the sweetest honey when my name passes across them

if he were a lover, he would know how to draw her near, it would not take daydream and prayer but the knowledge learned through practice

he could convince her, if he were a lover with practiced hands and earnest heart, she would see he knew of that which he spoke in his heart

if he were