Waiting, watching, listening, hoping.
Stop this now,
It's too weak - too soon.
I don't need this, but I want this.
How do I know?
How on earth can I know?
Is it the eyes?
Is it my butterflies?
Is it the ease?
Is it my knees?

He says, 'It feels like we're on a date'
and a whole new world opens up.
Am I ready to step into this world?
Or am I hanging on to the old one for dear life?

My time is mine.
Own it.
Love it.
Don't give it up.

Just yet.

Butterflies, butterflies.
Naseous nerves.
A stomach aflutter
like wings, things and birds.
Is this what it is?
This gravity of emotion?
How could stress feel like the wings of a dove? 
 
This is scary.
There's no turning back.
I'm on the brink and looking up.
I'm starting to fly
touch down on the other side of the desert
soon
soon
soon.