you pull your sleeves down over your hands
like you're always cold
(i wouldn't mind warming you up)
and you always say you're tired
but you still stay up til 2
to talk to me
(i won't apologize for it
because god, those texts make me happy)
and you say you hate physical contact
but you still reach for my hand
every time we're on the couch
(i can't describe how much that means)
and you make me want to write
because you're the most beautiful boy
and i can't believe you chose me
but my words are inept
and i fumble over my own to tongue
every time i try
(you are too beautiful
        for  me
                       to
                              describe)