It started slow, with instinctive wariness whenever you looked back into my eyes while asking a question, making a statement, offering apologies. A part of me knew from those first few days that I was in danger of feelings uninvited.

Then in one smooth stroke you blew the gates open, telling me your secret: she’s left you. As off limits as before now I could no longer help the bubble that grew inside my chest whenever you’re near. Everyday I struggled with bottling the feeling of absolute effervescence. All my efforts would be so consumed that to hold on to mere threads of consciousness I’d resort to counting my own hitched breaths.

I don’t know where it comes from, this tight and maddening infatuation. I have no rational interest in you. I have an endless list of reasons we make a poor match. Still your nearness drives me mad.

In a couple of weeks most of my thoughts consisted of you. With you, heart pounding in chest, I held back the dizzying urge to touch you. Away from you, I rehearsed the will to keep reasonable distance away from you.

How can I help it as you continue to pour yourself into me, so that in my universe I can imagine, only I could know you so well, only I could bring you up from the place you fell?

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