A twinkle sparkles in your eyes. 

A flutter in my stomach. We talk, we laugh.

A couple of pauses and a gaze held a little too long.

Nervous laughs, another drink.

Innuendo and words with double meanings. Are you paying attention?

The seed is planted.

How long does it take to grow?

What shuts it down?

Is fear stronger than blind faith? Than curiosity?

I leave before I say or do something I will regret – or that makes you uncomfortable?

I want you to kiss me again. The timing is wrong.

My brain is in overdrive with what-ifs; with what could be.

It must wait for the fires of desire to catch and grow.

It must wait for another day.