an extended metaphor is called conceit

My mind has settled for the clearer, but what has my heart said since the beginning?
An extended metaphor is called conceit - as so found in this journal, if you've picked it up in
Pieces, fragments - as I see in his eyes,
my reflection
Not found. And I caught glimpses of this impenetrable beauty
that i've secretly admired.
So I sit here crying familiar tears of happiness and joy
torn between the moment and wearied by future.
Between the burden of intuitive knowledge and the weightlessness of the current.
I'm confusing I know... but I remain steadfast for now
as I clutch in my hands, the book of discontent.
I'm smiling, we're smiling.. and my heart is racing so fast
in parallel to tears,
down the sides of two faces.

I still feel unsettled.
O! Exhalt young love.
I'm so happy for you.