Writer's Block

When I'm feeling up, my pen won't hit the paper. All my ideas fly away with no hint of return. When I'm half in love, that pretty feeling in between my belly still fluttering and finally un-shaking knees, my words won't dare come. Each attempt hits the trash because all my thoughts go to you; everything else seems to vanish. I see sparks fly when you smile; I hear fireworks when we kiss. Still there are no letters to put in perfect arrangements. My dear, it's all your fault, or, at least that's what I pretend because I couldn't have wrote a single word if I wasn't at least pretend mad.