Mess in my head

It is strange how our minds
can inadvertently change
under soft touches of hands,
how old principles derange

over the course of one night
and a couple days, so that
what didn’t seem at first right
no longer sounds all too bad.

What made me laugh at mention,
formerly unthinkable,
upon further reflection
becomes less improbable.

Replaying the scenes over,
focused on how good it felt,
I but wonder if sober
your view’s still the same, and melt.

If your interest persists,
maybe something could be done,
use the summer time for trysts,
play around and have some fun.

No one knows what will come then,
in autumn with rains, so why
not enjoy it while we can?
I am now willing to try.

Thinking of the puppy look
you gave me few times that night,
with eager smile when you took
me to a dance, head so light,

slowly have I started to
fancy, with a deal of mirth,
the idea of us two
having some kind of a flirt,

no longer minding that you’re
considerably younger.
Back then I was too unsure,
but now my doubts are lesser.

I cannot help but ponder,
who knows what could have happened
if the night had been longer.
I’d like to get a second.

Your hands touching many-where,
close presence of your torso,
the tender kiss in my hair,
made me yearn for more, and so

I reached out to you with wish
we might dance like that again,
that it wasn’t just foolish
pursuit from a drunken man,

but genuine partially,
only to find that, alas!
that’s what it was, seemingly,
leaving my head now in mess.

I should have stuck to that thought
since when I first expressed it.
Rethinking is good for naught.
I shouldn’t have admitted

any possibility
of becoming else than friends,
but maintain civility
to whatever you like ends.

Willing to give it a go,
I made some racy comments
implying your wooing, though.
But you’re not taking my hints.

That’s kind of disappointing.
Now I honestly don’t know
what I was here expecting,
whether I want more or no.

I may regret I did not
feel way less hesitant to
give you the chance on the spot
to take me where you meant to.

I realize, nonetheless,
that what I really long for
are the touches and the kiss,
but hardly anything more.

Or is’t just an illusion?
Your behaviour threw me in
a state of big confusion
and I can’t stop daydreaming.