there are twelve reasons I can think of why I should not feel what I do for you love you.

one.

you're older.

in reality, you're younger. you just seem so much older,

like you've seen things,

done things,

that I'll only see and do

years from now.

two.

you don't have to wear makeup

and you still look beautiful.

this scares me. you have that raw kind of beauty

that can't be achieved by needles,

probing under the skin, or even something as simple as

a swipe of an eyeliner pencil.

three.

you look me in the eyes.

like you can see right through me.

like you're listening.

like you care about what I have to say.

four.

you like boys.

which kind of –

sort of –

presents a problem.

five.

when I pass you

in the halls,

I make this

werid,

goofy,

stupid smile

that I'm sure makes you think I'm mental

(I'm not,

but still.)

six.

you

look

good

in

red.

(especially in those red socks.)

seven.

you look

good

in

white.

(with your long hair halfway down your back.)

eight.

you look good

in green.

(hell, you look good in every color, I'm just not going to list them all.)

nine.

oh.

you look good in

black.

(especially black. it's intense. it's sexy. it works for you.)

ten.

I can actually talk to you

without stuttering

(too much).

I'm afraid of what I might say.

eleven.

I can't tell what

color

your eyes are.

they're blue,

but they're not.

if you know what I mean?

I find that far too much of my

attention

is used up,

staring at them.

but when I look away,

I still don't know their shade.

twelve.

you drink.

and it's slightly hot,

but I'm afraid of what you may say to me,

and what you might not mean, or

remember,

after you've sipped out of that

bottle.

can.

red plastic cup

(ping pong ball removed, of course).

and after all this (could you see it coming?), I realized these are just more reasons I…love you?


10.08.2009 (A)