Passing glances,
turning heads.
Shields going up,
knives going through.
In a moment of weakness
your guard is open;
butterflies roam
and thoughts flow freely,
they see what's hiding
and you see them-
their guard has fallen:
Passing glances,
turning heads.
Shields going up,
knives going through.
In a moment of weakness
their guard has opened;
cheeks turn red,
eyes avert.
Rambling nerves,
Jumbled thoughts.
Confusion settles,
feelings thicken.
Glances cast around again
but no heads need to turn.
All shields back in place,
nothing getting through.
They've vanished for the day-
just like yesterday
and the days
where passing glances ruled.