this is not a love poem.
this is your smile
which appears when you're surprised
or walk into debate practice and see me
and all I can focus on is the way that your
lips curve slightly upward just for me.

these are not romantic words.
these are your eyes,
which are the color of freshly brewed dark roast
with a hint of almond  milk
and the way they stare into mine
when we're intertwined.

this is not a john green novel,
this is your mind,
which crafts universes from neurons,
and I get a chance to sit back and watch
you do magic without saying a word.

this is not a love poem.
this is complex and three dimensional
this lives and breathes and loves and
hurts outside of page and ind
this is not a love poem.

this is your poem.