I remember at the party as blurry as it all was when you kissed me through my tears and startled me I was angry angry because I took the blame for the tickets we all received and you kissed me I was too blinded by *** to see how romantic and how sweet your gesture of sympathy really was, objectively; internally I was not ready, for reasons unclear even to myself (to sum, I was young and dumb and frightened of affection) but even now, a year or two later I think about your eyes, sparkling and wired, intimidating and intriguing; I think about your posture, your wit, your cyclist thighs, and wonder why I didn’t think you were a catch of a guy