In a Perfect World

Maybe I'm silly for thinking so but your smile tells me otherwise
because of the way you own it and determine to yourself that
you will smile through the awkward pains.  It isn't so strange to admit
that you are something of an enigma, and when your cheeks dimple
I can't help but sigh in side as my heart fans itself from too much admiration
for something that you can't quite control.   Maybe it's silly to think that
I'm creating laughter that emits from you belly up through your throat
from that dimpled grin and explodes into the world like a platter of fine
wines sorted out in particular cups.   A dose of medicine that you've concocted
just by being you and its intoxicating to see that and hear you in the way
that makes me anxious that it isn't all a fantasy.   Maybe I'm silly or pathetic
for inching a finger toward your hand in order that it will be taken and cherished
but despite what possibilities may come from my adorations of your life I can't help
but feel defenseless.   If you are indifferent to the affection that I want to convey
I will fall on my sword eventually but as it stands it is sheathed, and I am content
just to breathe the air in the same spaces that you stand.   In such a simple and sublime
way I am thinking of you with a dream and a prayer, but it is not so bad as to be the end
of the world if dreams do not come to pass.  I have lived long enough into the days
to understand the limits of attraction, and to possess a defense for sword wounds.
Maybe I'm silly for thinking so but your smile tells me otherwise.
As do your eyes.