The Halfway House

She is in love with his manner,

The way he is rude without apology,

And she is in love with his grin,

And scowl of lethargy.

.

She is in love with how he dresses,

The way he wears everything she hates,

And she is in love with his persistence,

And how he's on her mind when she wakes.

.

She is in love with his tone,

The way he never means what he says,

Or says what he means.

.

She is in love with his absence,

And she is in love with his presence.

And everything in between.

.

She is in love with the music

He so passively adores,

And she is in love with his words

And their crossings of swords.

.

She is in love with his gaze,

The way it never falls upon her,

And she is in love with his indifference,

And the holes he happens to tear.

.

She is in love with his heart,

The way it is so apart from hers,

And unattached.

.

She is in love with his rancorous mind,

And she's in love with their daily grind

Of wits.

.

She is in love with all these things,

And more.

She is in love with every facet of his being,

She thinks.

.

But she is not in love with him.