Irina Minaeva - Much Like a Toothache

Your lanky figure at my door,
Bright eyes and spilling hair...
Can all it be the reason for
My joy and black despair?

You were so quick to disappear
I could make nothing out.
You've power over me — it's queer,
But there's not any doubt.

I can't change anything, but still
I wish it were not so.
A strange sensation: warmth and thrill.
Much like a toothache, though.

Irina Minaeva

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/much-like-a-toothache/