Fight

You walk into the room and smile at all the right times because you know they're all watching you. You play it coy because shy hearts are easier to love, and paired with marble eyes, you're a winning streak any buster would step into the ring for. And that's how it feels - like a fight.

All the screaming becomes white noise because you're the accumulation of every sense. Touch. Taste. Feel. Hear. See. Love. And my heart's doing all the work, making sure every part of my body knows you're there even when you're not. 

I'm two rounds in and I can barely pick myself up off the floor. 

Oh, but what a prize. You stand there, making sure not to meet my eyes and I'm all the way here, chewing on the smoke the train left behind when it ran away with my common sense. 

One.

Two.

I start counting the hearts dropping around you.

Three.

You make perfect look so easy.

Four.

Five.

Six.

I'm walking over to you.

Seven.

Your eyes rush for a place to hide.

Eight.

You can feel the heat of the hot mess I've become.

Nine.

You lose your resistance to my thieving kiss.

...Ten.

I wait as the last heart to drop is yours.