I would hold my breath beneath an infinite tunnel; cash out my checking account in coins and cast them into every cascading fountain I can find, catch ten thousand planes, and make one hundred different wishes to change the way I notice you. Because I wish it wasn’t such a reflex to catch you smile. I wish my neck wouldn’t obey my body’s impulsive pull to you; that my eyes didn’t open more widely to drink you in. I wish my nerves would just forget you, and stop sending messages to my brain that tell me I’m tingling just because you’re in the room. I wish the butterflies in my stomach would die, but instead they are encased again in a cocoon, to become something stronger because I will never want to trust their soft flutter again. And I wish that I could teach my heart a different way to beat; slap sense into it so that it doesn’t sing your name in its every rhythm. I wish my voice didn’t leap so boldly when lyrics that remind me of you come into my head. And I wish everything about me that wasn’t enough to make me astounding to you will learn to live past this; but simply wishing, will never get me around it.