When you look at me and smile like that, eyes shining and perfectly curled mouth, and you become all honey golden tanned smooth cheek and white teeth and dark brown eyes flecked with caramel, dark loose curls and dark brows; when it all connects together the way it does with you when you turn it onto high beam, full bright - yes, like that, when you smile at me like that, it's like flying into the Bermuda Triangle.

All instruments go awry. I am Flight 19.
I can't keep track of which way is up and where down was, ahead and behind and straight and level are all confused and forgotten.
Dials and needles spin crazily, nothing makes sense, I become dizzy and disoriented and then, for a moment, a little afraid.
When you smile at me like that all I can do is lift my gaze and look ahead, straight at your face, and drink you all in with thirsty eyes. 

With my tripping heartbeat I might try to keep it together, straight and level.
And I can hear your words, but sometimes I can't answer because I can't decide if your professional kindness and friendliness are just that or if I am in a fatal, exceeding everything-to-never-exceed dive from which I really don't want to recover.
Tear my wings off, it doesn't worry me, I don't care, am I up or am I down?
So I can't always answer because I have to remember to speak from my head, and keep my words light and clever and of neither bearing nor weight, and that is not easy. 

As much as I have to remember the idea that this is you being your properly professional self, the niggling instinct that your wink means something else confuses me and only makes me want to tell you that you are absolutely the only one who comes close, and that you really are the only one who could, with the lightest touch, ford the moat and break down all these fearsomely,  carefully and beautifully crafted walls, battlements and ramparts. I would also tell you that if you simply walked up to the drawbridge and smiled again, just the once, like that, I would have to slay the gatekeeper for carrying out his strict and contrary orders, and then release the pawl that would run the chains over their sheaves and with a rush, the way would be open to you. I could do nothing else.

When you smile at me like that, I want only to, on bended knee, kiss your hand, and offer you silk and wine and a comfortable seat.
And a heart that wants only to for ever listen to your heart.

When you smile, and look at me, and wink, like that - what I want to say is that more than anything I want to collect you from your door of an evening and hold the way open for you and play only music really carefully chosen, and to remember not to talk too much, and to try to make you smile more and more and even, if I can find out how, to make you laugh, and kiss your cheek at your door again, and look for the scent of you on my shirt when I take it off before bed, and again in my car the next day. I want to lie awake all night wondering if you are lying awake too.
And then to do that again and again and again.

When you smile at me, and look at me, like that, as you did now, I am done for and undone, and lost and confused and bewildered and fifteen again,