You

People in my life become art
One way or another.
Some become pop songs,
Others art music.

You've become poetry,

Poetry and clumsiness.
Game attempts at human communication
Come out as strangled grunts
Or strange head movements.
The words that do come out string together 
To form sentences said by people I am not.
You make me feel like a fool
And I love it.

Yet, when I write about you
Everything flows.
I know where each word has to go,
Precisely.
I know how to tell the world what you do to me.
But I can't tell you.
I'm at a loss,
Yet, I've gained so much for it.

From my babbling I've regained meaning.
I know again what it means to yearn.
I have thoughts of leaving my shell,
Of giving my soul another chance to knit itself to another.
Perhaps that is why you tie my tongue into knots:
I know the stakes.
I know what you mean.
I know you don't know.
I know you wouldn't give me the answer I'm looking for
I don't know which answer that is.
For now I'll protect you from the mess in my head
If I ever sort it out, perhaps I'll let you in.

Until then, every smile I send you taunts me.
It threatens to tell you my secret.
Still, I'll keep tempting fate.
I can't help myself around you.
You make me feel like a fool.
And I love it.