Dear Young Lady Poem by elhen walter

With the passion and thrill
That lies under your skin
I call it madness
Let me call it an M

Stop looking at him
The way he arranges his eyeglasses
While looking at those hands
Those long and slender fingers

Stop imagining him in some places
You are putting your heart on the edge
Don't put the numbers altogether
It may mean nothing

Stop turning your gaze
Look far and focus on something else
'Cause no matter how many times
You turn, it's the same

Stop counting his steps
Or trying to know the time in his watch
Will it do you good? no
This only confuses you

Stop looking at how he stands up
Or how he turn his head to speak
Or how he walks
Or how he closes the door

Stop expecting anything
This is dangerous I say
Walk your own path
And you'll later find a place
To rest those feelings

Do I sound cold?
Do I sound harsh?
Can't I just advice you
Young Lady whose eyes on this at the moment

But this of no means discouraging one
Just of an experience of a certain person
Of an accidental writer
She who places her heart on the paper