Whimsical Eyes

As the stars come out tonight, I only want to be one place
and that is looking in your eyes.
Promise me forever and that is where I’ll stay,
staring at your flecks of greens and blues and grays.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter and I’d care not what you say,
but even if you wouldn’t want me
it’s your eyes that make me stay.

When I stand beside you I’m drawn closer with every breath,
yet holding me back each time is my common sense.
Torn apart in two, like Capulet and Montague,
over emotions cold and warm, over thoughts tired and worn
of thinking about you and only you.

Little Miss Whimsical wants to run her hands through your hands,
kiss her lips on top of yours, but
Little Miss Logical Wants nothing of this sort.

Whimsical is love, yet logic leads the mind,
and yet as I question feelings for you ever flowing is the time.
Even if it were yesterday, tomorrow or the next,
if it was the last day I would ever see you it would be a day I would regret.

For not of having told you of the beauty of your eyes,
or the feelings of Miss Whimsical, logic otherwise
having been forgotten in the sea of blue orange green
that I begin to float in whenever you are seen.

Fickle some may call me, to speak in such clichés.
Yet, fickle things must start somewhere, why not with you today?