her

Every movement
Appears somehow sensual
to me.
Casual flick of her hair
Head resting deftly on thoughtful fist
Crossing, re-crossing her legs
Swaying her hypnotic hips as she walks.
Does she know I'm watching?
Surely everyone is watching,
Transfixed.

The undeniable signs start to surround me;
Disproportionate division of time
Spent thinking about her,
Going over previous conversations
Plotting potential new ones.
Ever increasing desire to spend time
In her presence
Forcing myself to give it a rest
Text her less.
And when I do -
I wait a few moments before replying
To conceal my eager demeanour.

I vowed this wouldn't happen to me again
Knowing full well the only logical end.
And yet
slowly
Without me noticing at first;
I am beginning to crack
Wanting to give that which cannot
Be taken back.

I don't quite know
How to explain it,

That's not true
I do, And I'm done for.