Passion

She sits apart from all the others 
Smiling gently in her nervous way, 
Unsure of these strange places, 
The places I am. 
But she followed me here, 
No one forced her. 
Doe eyes stare intently - 
Her head, tilted slightly to the side. 
The hint of her tongue behind her lips, 
Who is she? 
Those eyes, 
Quivering lips, 
That smile. 
Raised, humorous eyebrows at my uncertainty 
Who me? Not me? Surely not me? 
Her expression sets it clear, 
And her voice breezes over my ear. 
It captures my soul and something is tingling, 
Racing up and down my spine. 
Her confession: 
 It’s me. 
My world stops.

Her Confession