I dream,
just to hold your hand, and
I am lost to imagination.
A sort of starry-eyed
fascination.
I would die to touch your hair.
I could perhaps,
collapse,
in a red-faced moment, shy.
I know you wonder why I sigh,
and swiftly look away.
It's just, you burn inside my heart,
but I hope you don't yet see me through.
I want to hide, but I fear it's clear to every eye,
that I am so in love with you . . .
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