How I do, and how I don't.

Oh how I can never look at 'one' now,
Without wanting to scream,
Without thinking of you,
And that time, dear.

How I can never look at you,
Or speak to; about you,
Without my cheeks flaring red,
Reciting lines in my head.

How I can never walk past you,
Being unafraid of what you will do,
But now I'm anticipated,
Of what you could do.

It's like an illness,
A mental-sick,
Disease others think,
Oh how they hate you so.

But I cannot understand
Not why they hate you;
But why I don't
What now made my mind change so swift?
Was it those lines?
That play?
Did you woo me with your hands, your eyes, your words?
Or did I yield to that script,
And to loss of my identity,
But believe me sweet, believe your ears,
When I say
"Tomorrow I really would meet with thee,
And maybe yonder could be me, your dear"
If given the chance, trust, those words would be true,
But believe when I swear that
I love thee, I love you.