cliches

My heart always springs
And s             k         i        p      s, , ,,,
rocks and beats,
When our hands meet.
I consistently
tend to find
my head,
Somewhere over
my cleats.
I'm running
after
you.

I cannot-willnot
be discrete,
It would be,
utterly obsolete!

But sometimes...
telling
you
Is such a feat...

So,

I write to express,
How much you mean to me.

I write to confess:
        That:
           I never want to be without you.

I write all this,
but not for you to read.

Because they say;

actions speak,
Louder than words.

So,

I'll simply loan
you a kiss,
And leave the interpretation
of my
obvious intentions,
to your
lips.