I'm not going to lose this one, promise

I started writing this love
poem about you
not
so long ago
and I
I often twitch at
the thought
of writing
the word
"love"
but
then again the word
"dating"
wouldn't
work so very
well
either.
it's so complicated
between you and I:
you're
"confused"
you say,
but
I know better than
that. I might not be
George Clooney but
I certainly know
better.
anyways, I finished that
poem and it was rather good
but when people showed up
they interrupted me and it
somehow vanished by the pressing
of the keys on this keyboard; my 6th symphony.

I sat there, mesmerized,
thinking of you as I lay
picturing the electricity that lights up those eyes.
what beacon of hope you might be giving to some poor
soul as I sit here writing, trying to think of a way to
write you away into the night.
I'm a crab lost at sea,
a ship sailing through the thunderstorm,
a bird holding strong on the powerlines.