my mind's made up.

an encompassing attraction.
i feel your presence
inundating my thoughts and ideas.
my mind embarks...
meandering between lines of beauty and illusion
to find out who you are.
your desires.
your faults.
your humility.
to know if i can bring resolution to the things which ail you.

while gazing at your portrait
i swam in the murky waters of your lukewarm brown eyes,
found safety on the island of onyx in its core
and questioned the art of formulating emotions.

is it your scent that i wish to send my senses into rapture,
for your fingers to raise trails of goosebumps along my arms,
or to be reassured after ill thinking by the sound of your voice?

in any situation
which lays compromised by uncertainty
and circumscribed by unknown motives,
i ask for nothing less than to befriend you
and catch shooting stars
on the off chance
that one will grant our wish
so that you won't have to wonder
and i won't have to plead.