Lost you before I had you

Whisk of the wind,
Something is about to begin;
It's not my heart that's beating,
But my chance at love that's retreating.

I loved you since adolescence,
Gazed at your beauty, breathed your essence;
But I refrained, with muttering lips and sweaty palms,
The dreary rain has turned into a maelstrom.

He's muscular and knows the right words,
But all my uttering is quite absurd;
In a contest, he would cut me down to size,
I think it's already over, and you, my dear love, are the prize.