The Heart or The Stomach?

When you walk into the room,

I mistype my password.

When you sit down beside me,

I forget myself, and remember my posture.

When you speak to others,

I reach out for every word,

Wishing each was made for me.

When you speak to me,

I try with all my might to listen,

and I fail as fully as ever.

Your gesture is my signal.

Your joke is my gospel.

Your wish is my command.

I think I can promise you my attentions,

(Tied in a grubby, Gordian knot,)

Whether we want that or not.