(This is a poem about being in love, and its NOT EMO!! It can be done! Although this was written when I was young and naive, but it still pretty accurately describes that infatuation feeling one gets...)
Every few minutes
my pulse trips and falls,
causing my breath to get lost
en route.
My mind has been long gone
since morning,
exploring the past
while inventing many futures.
My feet and hands
are just going through the motions
because my feelings are wound up to tightly
to spread over the day.
The fibers in my muscles will not relax.
They're waiting in tense
anticipation.
Even my taste buds are duller,
for they will not be satisfied
with mere food or drink.
They want to taste something
as clumsy and lost and enthralled
as their own self.
See!
My body is too smart.
I cannot fool myself
out of my state of quiet frenzy.
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