You make me write.

You make me nervous.

My palms begin to sweat and my heart races to play catch up with my quivering lips.

I tremble.

You make me smile.

Your genius words form unintentional gorgeous sentences.

From ear to ear I have something worth keeping, worth savoring forever.

I light up.

You make me talk.

Unselfish topics and interesting questions make it easy to follow this lip game with words.

I respond so quickly, even I am surprised.

I open up.

You make me dance.

Through twisted movements, your gestures draw me closer and closer toward you.

I can no longer resist.

Our hands are predicting their final clasp;

As they will never be further separated.

I whirl.

You make me crazy

I wish this wish was granted, that I could perhaps understand your thoughts.

I wish to ask you something, but timing has to be just right.

When will it be?

Will it ever be?

Nothing happens alongside my predictions,

So I am doubtful.

I’m crazy.

I think.