I'm thinking about you a little bit.
Okay, a lot.
Maybe because your lips were the last to touch mine
(6 days ago) (and counting)
Or maybe because you tried to Skype me from your roof last night.
That was sweet of you.
But also
so very representative
of your lack of  l o g i c  &  r e a s o n.
You worry me.
Did you know that?
Maybe.
Maybe I think about you because you're great at ***.
I'd like that to be the reason.
But it isn't.
Because now when I think about you I don't think about *******.
****.
I think about when you kissed me in that stupid deli.
I think about when you danced with me down Boylston.
And how you always tell me to smile
And how, for some reason, that makes me want to frown.
And how being with you makes me want to tell someone I love them.
But not necessarily you…
And how you inspire me to create things. Anything.
Like stream of consciousness poetry. So thank you.
But then again
This didn't turn out very well, did it?