I‘m telling myself that I‘m not
in love with you
because you‘ve never made me cry
(though you have,
once,
just once, and I try to forget it ever happened
because it was stupid
and I was childishly jealous
for no reason).

It‘s so easy
to lie to myself, because
we only see each other once in a while.

But when I do see you, my heart races.
You smile at me and my knees buckle.
You hold my gaze and I can barely breathe.

I want to kiss you.
I want to be held in your arms and I want to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you.