with her on my mind, the world is poetry
a bottle brought to my lips is a kiss from her
kicking through the straws of grass together
the carrier bag on my knuckles are her fingertips
but what right have I to think of her
without her validation, is it cute or creepy?
this is the saddest joy I've ever known
the loneliest love I've never shared
when I'm with her, resting in her eyes,
on her words, feeling, really feeling
a tiny chain in my chest tugging me toward her
in a gravity spiral, I'm falling for her
but in complete ignorance if she has a chain for me
maybe it is best if she doesn't
I can match and chat and meet another,
wandering fruit stalls in the market reaching for apples
and waiting to clash fingertips with the one
but as I idly swipe and type and walk and breathe
slowly, slower
girls more beautiful, sexier, shining bright
with minds ablaze with creativity and wonder
intelligence unyielding and smiles just like hers,
but they're not her and that is all that matters
it feels. She isn't the prettiest girl in the world,
she isn't perfect beyond perfection in every detail
yet with her on my mind, the world is poetry
