That Bonny Lass Poem by Niko Tiliopoulos

What can I write about her?
I could use my feelings like myrrh,
I could attempt my thoughts to spur,
but I would err myself pointlessly,
cause when I’m with her I feel glee,
and she should know better than me
that she haunts me like a banshee,
with her wee figure and her hair of gold,
at times she can be such a scold, a guile!
with her serious looks and childlike smile
she is tormenting me like a trial...

I wish I could touch her for a while.

But she is forbidden like a sinful pleasure,
an impossible treasure never to be had,
and as I watch her lips offer me tips
on how not to be so mad or sad
I feel bad only to pay attention
to that mystifying dimension of her voice,
and not out of choice but out of need
I can’t heed her advice, yet I don’t
want her see me weak and crying,
so I am lying and trying to look cool,
such a fool I am, not worth her intellect,
but I respect her like a gospel
and even when I cannot conceive
why she doesn’t believe the stories I tell
I am willing to go to hell
just to be lost in the olive green of her eyes,
cause everything about her is so worthwhile...

I wish I could touch her for a while.