Crush, by Eloise Beltz-Decker

I look at him
    lustfully.
People talk in
    conversation;
    I only gaze, 
    oblivious.
His sinuous body
        honeyed skin
        wavy hair
        long, expressive hands
    make unconscious arabesques
    as he speaks.
I only watch,
    devouring him with my eyes,
    imagining

        those lips
        those hands
        those _eyes_
    locked on mine:
    a frenzy of caresses.
He gestures,
    driving a point home,
    giving the punch line.
They laugh.
He turns
       to me!
    asking ....
    but I missed the question.
I stammer,
       blushing,
       staring,
    *crush*ed in the trap of my

Sexuality.