Feb 2020
I didn’t know I liked you when I saw you.
I didn’t know I liked you when you smiled at me either.
Honestly, I don’t know when looking at you made my heart rate slow down.
I don’t remember the first time you made my knees buckle.
I study you, sometimes.
As much as I can from a distance.
I learned the way your head touches the low ceiling when you stand up.
And how you neck cranes just slightly to the side, because obviously.
I have learned how the back of your neck looks when you’re worried.
But also when you’re thinking hard.
And also when you’re laughing.
Sometimes I think I am making you up in my head.
I wonder if there is a dissonance between reality and fantasy,
But you won’t let me find out.
I want to hold your hand in the dark without anyone knowing.
I want to take you home to tell you what my day was like.
To have a meal with you. To sit across me on my bed.
Or to have my head in your lap.
I want to know what your day was like.
I want to know what bothers you when your head is on the table in a meeting.
I want to know what you have for lunch. And I want to know if you like eating your meals alone.
I imagine us as two separate minds silently chewing our meals in silence, crying as we watch our favourite shows. Alone, but together.
I want to know if you want me to know all the things I want to know about.
I want to find that sweet spot in your chest that I fit into when we watch something together.
I want to spend the night after that discussing the show in intense detail and end our stories with a kiss.
I want to share you in secret, and get to know you better.
But, you won’t let me.
I never want to say “What if”
So I’ll start with the “Why not”
Why not hold your hand under the table?
Why not find out what keeps you up at 3 am?
Why not find out what song makes you cry?
Why not find out what you don’t like on your pizza?
Why not find every corner of your body to tickle?
Why not let you hold my face when you kiss me?
Why not?
I keep thinking of the 4,000 ways to say these things to you
And 3,999 of them are just versions of “allow me”.
Allow me to knock on a door that’s shut.
Allow me to at least politely stand by as I ask for
A glass of wine, a laugh, a moment, a hand to hold.
I didn’t know I liked you when you smiled at me either.
Honestly, I don’t know when looking at you made my heart rate slow down.
I don’t remember the first time you made my knees buckle.
I study you, sometimes.
As much as I can from a distance.
I learned the way your head touches the low ceiling when you stand up.
And how you neck cranes just slightly to the side, because obviously.
I have learned how the back of your neck looks when you’re worried.
But also when you’re thinking hard.
And also when you’re laughing.
Sometimes I think I am making you up in my head.
I wonder if there is a dissonance between reality and fantasy,
But you won’t let me find out.
I want to hold your hand in the dark without anyone knowing.
I want to take you home to tell you what my day was like.
To have a meal with you. To sit across me on my bed.
Or to have my head in your lap.
I want to know what your day was like.
I want to know what bothers you when your head is on the table in a meeting.
I want to know what you have for lunch. And I want to know if you like eating your meals alone.
I imagine us as two separate minds silently chewing our meals in silence, crying as we watch our favourite shows. Alone, but together.
I want to know if you want me to know all the things I want to know about.
I want to find that sweet spot in your chest that I fit into when we watch something together.
I want to spend the night after that discussing the show in intense detail and end our stories with a kiss.
I want to share you in secret, and get to know you better.
But, you won’t let me.
I never want to say “What if”
So I’ll start with the “Why not”
Why not hold your hand under the table?
Why not find out what keeps you up at 3 am?
Why not find out what song makes you cry?
Why not find out what you don’t like on your pizza?
Why not find every corner of your body to tickle?
Why not let you hold my face when you kiss me?
Why not?
I keep thinking of the 4,000 ways to say these things to you
And 3,999 of them are just versions of “allow me”.
Allow me to knock on a door that’s shut.
Allow me to at least politely stand by as I ask for
A glass of wine, a laugh, a moment, a hand to hold.
