There's a feeling stronger than to loathe
Especially when your hand is intertwined with his
And he gazes upon the pearls in your hair
Your high brow, your blank stare
And maybe even the cut of your dress,
The lace it holds, the earring that sways as you dance
You know it, the way he looks at you
And if you will deny it, simply keep in mind
How he lets his fingers linger onto yours,
And despite the sharpness of your snark and wit
Maybe you'll catch yourself looking
His high brow, his blank stare
His eyes like pools of honey
And you'll know, there is a feeling stronger than to loathe.