Go away.
Because it's
yourfaceyourfaceyourface
every time I close my eyes and try
to breathe.
It would probably feel better
if you weren't so handsome. I'd have air
in my lungs when you walked by.
Your aura smells like springtime
and toes in the sand,
stolen glances in hallways and talks
about the water cycle.
You can't be pleased. I think
I'd like to try.
I've been told I'm nice and I'd love to show you.
I was just kidding
about that going away
stuff.