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Poem

A met a boy;
he wasn't really a boy, 
my age indeed he looked it,
but elder folk just call us boys and girls even in are twenties.
Well anyway, I bumped into him, not that its was my intention,
but he was nice and held it in that I poked him in the rib.
I said so many apologies; hoping that the more I would say,
the more his head would be filled with my voice instead of the feel of his pain.
He smiled at me and there it hit, my stomach got switched with a net of butterflies,
my cheeks got replaced by pink carnations blossoming late summer,
and my eyes began to converse with one another; 
trying to figure out a better way to see this just met face.
He stood up rubbing his side and I felt bothered for the incident, 
but he noticed me and said: "It's alright."
The sound of his voice sounded amused as if he was watching a funny movie.
... am I funny looking? I thought...
He must be thinking: look at this poor frizzy haired girl, 
she looks like she slept in her bed sized hello kitty shirt...hello kitty? She's not twelve.
I'm really wearing the choco cat character, but he probably doesn't know any better.
I've must of been staring without looking, cause he asked me: "Are you alright?"
I snapped out of my daze and looked down to my hands, I fidgeted my body and hoped
he understood, I was sorry for the incident, if i could of stopped it I would.
Slowly I met his gaze, and he still had that dumbfounded look on his face,
I repeated again and waved him goodbye I started to walk, but I wanted to fly.
But then I was stopped by a hand on my neck, he wasn't choking me!
More like a gentle tap or caress, maybe trying to rub my back but he's tall and-
"What's your name?"
...
SUCCESS!

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