like a cobra

Her eyes are like cobra fangs—venomous—and each time I gaze upon them I’m bitten, the poison penetrating my brain. Her words wrap around me and I’m stuck, choking, coughing up everything I shouldn’t. It seems I can never say anything right to her. Around her maybe, but never when my words are precisely directed toward her. And obviously, I hate it. I want to be cool and collected as I am with everyone else. Why must it be the one I like that makes me stumble and mutter and bite my tongue and theak before spinking? Perhaps I wouldn’t feel so bad if I induced the same poison on her. I want to make her laugh, make her think, make her smile, induce a sense of calm and security. If only I could tell her she’s beautiful, how I admire her, that I write about her, simply say more than hello. A mere glance in her direction and I crawl into this mental cave where I cower in fear and become ashamed of all that I am not, the mistakes I’ve made. If only I were a king with no wrong in his past and no fault in character so I could give her anything from my kingdom she’s ever even remotely desired… including another’s love if she’d not prefer my own. If only I could be her best friend. If only I could find a cure to this venom floating around in my skull.