Fumbling For Words

My heart is a messy bedroom I never take the time to clean.
The walls look as thick as an iceberg,
but if you take a closer look you'll see they're actually paper mache.
I like my body the best when I'm not worried about how much space it's taking up.
I've never been this myself around anyone.
It's freaking me out a little.

Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days, it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
You went into this knowing I was a total creep,
don't quit on me now.

Sometimes all I can say is "Hi", 
and when I say "Hi",
I mean I adore you.
And when I say that I adore you,
I mean I will check your horoscope.

Everyone loves to tell me to
"Trust my gut", 
But the truth is that most days my anxiety
Blocks out the sun
And my gut is begging me to abort mission.

I know you don't know this,
but there are balloons that you carry in your laughter
and I like them better than flowers.
And flowers are something that I don't understand 
unless they're still in the ground 
because how on Earth would you love a gift 
of something that's going to die?

So I just blew on my ice cream.
Apparently my brain thinks it needs to be colder.
And as I was contemplating that thought process,
I also blew on the following spoonful.

Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning out of control 
and then suddenly there's one face;
your face,
saying one word that makes it all stop.
The mind that is busier than the streets of New York and Tokyo combined
Just.  Stops.
And then the spinning becomes more like a dance move.
And I'm no longer fumbling for words because we understand the steps of the Tango.

Hi.
I'm a Pisces, how about you?