《Sonnets》52. The Fear Of Hope

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When I feel that rush, my heart always skips

but is that actual love or just my imagination?

My brow sweats, there's a dryness on thy lips

is this feeling authentic or just lively flirtation?

I don't know a thing about her, not even a name

as I admire the fair lady from across the room.

I know the moment shall pass as fast as it came

but I'll remember her smile, giggle and perfume.

Yet watch is all I can do as I'm simply too afraid

of the rejection that would likely be handed out.

I fear she is spoken for or might respond with jade

I'm unable to move, despite my ongoing drought.

This happens so often it's becoming quite tiring

the ongoing quest to find one person who is caring.

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