He

He

he is all things silly and cliche

I would tell you that he makes my heart beat

but the uttering of that phrase is sickening

as it escapes my reluctant lips

his hands are like a grown man's

but his eyes are of my youth

when his feet touch mine

and my hands meet his neck

All of time stands still

and I can hardly breathe.

The jump of my spiked pulse

the raised hair on the back of my neck

proves me a liar when I told him

I had felt love like his before.

I hadn't even begun to know

what kind of dime store prophecy

lays within the depths of his pocket

which he holds open for me.

Who am I to care anyway

all I need is

He.