To The One Whom I'm Not Sure About

I search endlessly for you in photographs

even though I know, you hate smiling for them.

I did not know your name until the sunset on the second day.

They ask me what I like about you and I scour for an answer,

Because the truth is: the reason I dream lives

frivolously in the

firm line of your shoulders.

Maybe it’s how you refused to

laugh at my jokes

but made me feel so safe

on the back of your bike. Or perhaps it is the way

you make me want to listen to love songs again.

How I can tell them that it’s the way

you refuse to celebrate your birthday

because you hate cake that’s too sweet?

Or the late-night unexpected

confessionals.

Hey, you’re the only girl that makes me laughs this way.

Or was I only dreaming?

I used to draw in straight lines

and sing in circles,

Until you.

you make me write poetry.

And a great terrible offence it is

To sit just out of reach, to take the entire day to reply

To tell me you don’t want the drama of love

when your hands look perfect for holding mine.