there is this boy, he writes beautifully about this girl
she is his best friend and he is in love with her
and she might be, too
but love can be so strange at times
and just breathing in general, it doesn't make sense
and I am writing this while walking
and my cursive looks utterly ******
and I would take a fall and
scrape my knees in the name of poetry
and I would stand tall and
learn not to slouch my back so much
if you asked me to
but you don't, because you like the way
I walk with this sort of shy ghost over my shoulders
and you'd rather watch the way my lips move when I talk
and count the times I push up my glasses during mid sentence
and I just like the way you make me like things
and I like that you like me more than I like myself