i know i am young,
i know i am only seventeen,
but when i think of him
and his incandescent smile,
my heart swells and beats in time
with the cadence of his alluring words

his mind is like no other,
filled with such deep
and captivating thoughts
that flutter from place to place
like a moth, and like a moth
i am drawn to his brilliance

i long to hold his face in my hands
and trace his lips with my fingertips
and when i close my eyes
all i see is the way he looks at me,
as if i’m the one who paints
the summer evening sky

i know i am young,
i know i am only seventeen,
but i think i could spend
the rest of my life searching
and never find anything
nearly as beautiful as
the way he loves me

library books;
     the musty smell floods me with
     thoughts of its past readers
     did a girl like me
     run her finger across this line
     as i have?
     will our lines like vines
     ever intertwine?

rainy nights;
     while the tip-tap and dribble of
     droplets hit my windowsill,
     i imagine gusts of wind
     dancing with one another:
     carless and free
     and without destination

light touches;
     the accidental bump of elbows,
     the awkward entanglement
     of fumbling phalanges,
     a gentle squeeze of the hand,
     a comforting gesture that says
     “i am here.”

now reverie this:
     you and i,
     the spines of our books broken,
          our shoulders barely brushing,
               the sound of soft and subtle raindrops
          all things i adore in one simple
      and seemingly endless moment

books, rain, touches, and you

1) watching you love her.
2) everything else.

j.l

i’m too shy
to tell you
how i feel

so i’ll hide behind
timid smiles
and soft hellos

i’m afraid
if i ask you

“what do you think of me?”

your reply will be

          
                              
                               “i don’t.”